Evan Snape: King of Hogwarts
by toffeepop
Summary: Severus Snape has had a chance to do it all again! Now, years in the future, he has everything he's ever wanted - fame, fortune, the girl...and a son who insists on playing Quiddich and being best friends with the Potter kid.
1. Chapter 1

Green eyes

_Disclaimer: No, regretfully I do not own the wonderful professor Snape, or his lovely wife (wife in this universe anyway). Pretty much anybody you recognise is the property of J.K. Rowling, and the plot – of Severus getting a chance to get his life right second time around – comes from the wonderful story (also available elsewhere on this site ) by Sindie "the Moment it Began"._

Chapter 1.

Green eyes.

That was what Lucy Margaret Potter could see as she peeked through her curtains early one morning in June. There had been a tap, tap, tapping on the glass that certainly didn't sound like any sort of tree branch, so she had crawled out of bed in her pink nightdress to investigate, and found herself staring into a pair of emerald green lamps. "Evan?" she blinked, then hurriedly unfastened the latch, allowing the boy to scramble into her bedroom.

"Merlin!" he grinned. "It's not easy!"

"I climb that tree all the time," Lucy protested, reaching under her bed for the bag of Cauldron Cakes she had stashed there.

"It's not climbing the bloody tree that's difficult, Luce," said Evan Snape, holding his hand out expectantly. "It's getting from the tree onto your windowsill."

"I suppose it is harder," she agreed, extracting one of the remaining treats and passing it to her friend. "So, why bother?"

She waited while he chewed and swallowed, before saying, "Did you get your letter?"

"Oh, yes!" The girl grinned. She had rather a nice smile, and it wrinkled her small nose. "It came at breakfast yesterday."

"Your Mum and Dad pleased?"

The girl shrugged and lay back on her bright yellow counterpane and stared at the ceiling. Slowly, she began picking at the fabric beneath her fingers.

"Luce?"

"Things…aren't so good at mine right now."

"What do you mean?"

"Dad…"

The black haired boy guessed. "He lost his job again?"

"Merlin, this is so embarrassing. Other people's fathers can hold down a job for longer than six months. Why can't mine?"

Evan just shrugged. He had a feeling, based on overheard conversations between his parents, that it had a lot to do with the fact that Lucy Potter's father seemed to think the sun shone out of his arsehole, and he was simply too good for any job he got. Too good to need Auror training. Too good for a desk job at the ministry. Too good to run a shop. "I sometimes think," his father had remarked bitingly to his mother, one time after a frustrated Mary Potter had finished her tea and scones, and Apparated back to her newly-redundant husband. "That James Potter has taken an oath to never do an honest day's work until Engand's Quiddich team sees sense enough to turn its captaincy over to him."

His mother had laughed, and swatted him with a nearby wooden spoon, but Evan, who had only met James Henry Potter once, nevertheless thought that his Dad had summed the man up quite well. He had waited until they had stepped outside, then made good his escape, laden with scones and raspberry jam.

But Lucy. His Lucy. His best friend, she did not need to know any of that. Or, at least, she didn't need to know that's what he thought. She was probably perfectly aware of her father's shortcomings.

"And that's not all," she said suddenly, sitting back up, blue eyes wide.

"It gets worse?"

She nodded slowly. "Promise not to tell?"

"Word of honour."

"Dad…he…you know how we've used up most of the family gold?"

Evan resisted the temptation to squirm under that intense sapphire stare, but meet it squarely and nod. "Uh huh."

"Well, Dad just blew the rest on a sure thing."

"Excuse me?"

"He staked everything left in the vault on that last match in the world cup."

"Spain against Scotland?"

She nodded. "Did you go? I didn't see you there."

"No. Mum had some money on that too, actually."

"What happened?"

He shrugged again. "Scotland were the favourites. Mum wanted to put it on them, but Dad said put it on Spain. So they did."

She stared at him. "Sometimes," she said solemnly. "Your father scares me, Evan. Everything he touches turns to…"

"I know," he grinned. "It's awful, isn't it? He always says he's had enough misery for one lifetime, whatever that means, so he's making up for it now."

"What's it like, being Severus Snape's son? You know…Head of St. Mungo's, the hero who defeated the Dark Lord, worshipped in the streets, has his health drunk in every pub in England…"

"Shut up, Luce." He paused, thinking about it. "It's a lot to live up to," was the final conclusion. "But we weren't talking about my father."

"No," she sighed. "We weren't"

"Well?"

"Dad reckoned Scotland had it in the bag. He was so sure…Mum thinks he got a tip from one of his daft mates." For the first time, her voice grew waspish.

Evan digested this. "All of it?" he asked.

"All of it," she agreed, and swallowed. "They were fighting about it last night. Really screaming at each other. I…Evan, do your parents ever shout?"

He thought about it. "No. They argue, and Dad's voice gets all waspish, and once Mum blew his study door off its hinges because he wouldn't answer her when she was calling dinner." He broke off and surprisingly chuckled. "Turns out he had been working all the night before and he'd fallen asleep in there. Didn't think I'd ever see Dad jump like that. Merlin, they both laughed afterwards."

Lucy sighed wistfully. "It's been years since either of my parents laughed," she confessed.

"True?"

"Uh huh."

There was a little silence. Evan finished his cake. "So, what happens now, then?"

"Dad's going to try to get another job, I suppose. He's running out of options, though."

"What about teaching?"

"Honestly? The only subjects Dad could teach would be Defence against the Dark Arts or Transfigurations."

"They're both filled, though, aren't they?"

She nodded. "Mum wrote Dumbledore to ask. She wants Dad to go apply for that position in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department, with Arthur Weasley. I suppose he'll have to, now. But in the meantime, the wallpaper is starting to peel, the house needs painting, there's bugger-all food in the kitchen and I need books, potions stuff, a uniform, a wand and Merlin-knows what else!"

Evan sighed and sadly shook his head. It was true; the Potters had once occupied a lovely, cheerful white bungalow in Godric's Hollow. Four years after Lucy had dragged him along to see it for the first time, the Potters lived in the same bungalow. But the garden was a jungle, and the fence was missing several palings. The dirty paint was splintering and cracking, and inside, the wallpaper curled away from the walls as though trying to escape. Mary Potter could no longer be found polishing the dusty furniture, and the wonderful smell of her cooking very seldom hung in the air. It had been a long time since the oven had been used. Evan privately wondered if the Potters lived on porridge and fried potatoes, which he had been given for dinner two weeks ago when Lucy had dragged him over, desperate for company over than her silent, seething parents.

The Snapes also lived in Godric's Hollow. Evan's house was as bright and pristine as the day his proud parents had brought him home to it. It always smelled of roasting meat, sizzling ham, fresh-baked scones or bread. Everything he owned was brand new, from his shirt and jeans to his Nimbus two thousand sports broom.

He moved a little closer to Lucy and draped a comforting arm around her shoulders. "It will work out okay, Luce, I know it will. Maybe not now, but soon. Why don't you come to mine for breakfast today? Your folks won't be up for ages, but Mum had just put the coffee on when I left. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Frank are coming with Neville, so we can all go to Diagon Alley together after we've eaten. "

She smiled wanly. "Thanks. I'd love to come. Do you think your Mum will make ham and eggs?"

"She's bound to, what with company coming. Our Neville has an appetite."

Lucy grinned. Wait for me at The Spot, she instructed. "I need some time to have a shower and get changed. I'm not showing up at your house stinking!"

"Okay. The Spot. Fifteen minutes or I'm going home without you. I'm not missing ham and eggs for anyone."

"Evan, get out of here!" she shoved him in the general direction of the window.

"I'm going, I'm going!" He eased himself gingerly back into the branches of the leafy oak, and began scrambling down.

Lucy watched him until his feet hit the soft, overgrown lawn and waving, he took off at a run. Then she ducked back inside her room, rummaged in her chest of drawers for some clothes that were not dirty, obviously patched or outgrown and stalked off to the bathroom, more than a little depressed about how difficult that task was becoming.

As the water pummelled her body, and she lathered and rinsed both her skin and hair with various bathroom products, she wondered for the first time what she would have done about breakfast that day, if Evan had not extended his family's hospitality. As of last night, to her certain knowledge, there had been no food in the house except for a quarter-loaf of stale bread, and what remained of her Cauldron Cakes stash. Her stomach gave a loud growl, suggesting this was an unacceptable state of affairs, and sighing, she towelled off.

A few minutes later she was running a comb through her hair in front of a mirror she had cracked with a cricket ball several weeks ago, wearing her best mary-jane shoes, a blue cardigan knitted by her Gran for her last birthday and a short pair of corduroy dungarees that had once belonged to her mother.

Lucy bore a striking resemblance to Mary Potter. Same startling stone-blue sapphire eyes, same small, straight nose. Her hair, still wet from the shower was the same pale white-blonde as her mother's as well, but while Mary wore hers long and braided, Lucy's was bobbed just below her ears.

Her Hogwarts letter was lying on her vanity table, next to a purple hair-brush. She plucked out the list of necessities and frowned.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

Uniform

_First year students will require:_

_Three sets of plain work roes (black)_

_One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_One winter cloak (blak, silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

Set books

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk_

A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot_

Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling_

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch_

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllida Spore_

Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger_

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _by Newt Scamander_

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble_

Other Equipment

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (iron, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad._

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

How on earth were her parents going to afford _all _this _right now_?

She shook her head and forcibly squashed such depressing thoughts to the back of her mind.

Evan…waiting for her at The Spot. The shady place in the copse by the brook in the park, where the air was always wet and warm, and where they had wound up the first day they had met. If she didn't go now she would be late, and although she didn't think he would, in fact, indulge in an orgy of tender ham, lightly fried eggs and buttered toast without her, she didn't want to test that confidence.

So she tucked the list into her pocket and scrambled out of the window. Her father, she knew, had been sleeping on the sofa for the past week, and sleeping none too well. She would wake him up if she went out the main door anyway. Especially with the staircase that creaked.

Safely on the ground, she picked her way through the weeds and grass to the pavement and began to run towards the park.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing, it is all a tribute to J

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, it is all a tribute to J.K Rowling and Sindie. Except Evan. And Lucy. And my new, improved Neville, I suppose._

Evan was lying flat on his back when she arrived, almost invisible in the foliage. He sat up suddenly when he heard her. "Finally! Merlin, I'm hungry. Can we go?"

Lucy smiled brightly. "Lead the way!"

If she took after her mother, Evan was a miniature replica of his father. Except he wore his glossy black hair shorter. And his eyes. He had his mother's eyes. Same shape. Same verdant green.

He had his mother's sweet nature as well. Lucy adored Lily Snape – all hugs and love and laughter. Severus wasn't so easy to get along with. He had a prickly, taciturn nature and had been very stiff and formal when they had first met. Evan had told her privately that he and her father and been at school together and had completely detested each other. She guessed he wasn't too thrilled with continuing the association through their children.

And yet, that time when she had been so sick, and nothing James or his friends could think of seemed to work, a furious Mary overruled her husband and flooed her daughter to St Mungo's, and Severus Snape had looked after her personally. As the other children in the ward had stared in envy, the greatest hero of the Wizarding world had murmured soothing words and administered a dose of some nasty-tasting potion that had made her feel so much better she almost started crying, having remained stoic until then. The last thing she was aware of, before sinking into a peaceful slumber, was his cool, gentle hand on her forehead, and his sharp voice caustically suggesting that maybe her mother and father might like to be a little more on the ball next time.

Since then, they had gotten along much better. So much better, in fact, that sometimes, just for a moment, when she was tagging along with the Snapes on day-trips, and they stopped, and Severus bought everybody as much ice-cream as they could eat, she liked to pretend that they were her parents too. She always felt guilty afterwards, though. Her parents loved her. And her mother tried her best. But it was a lousy childhood.

Evan, sensing her mood, took her hand and gave a comforting squeeze. She looked at him and smiled, and soon he was unlatching the whitewashed gate in the picket fence surrounding the Snapes' house.

She eyed the flowerbeds and giant vegetable patch sadly. Her mother had loved her little garden. Now she had to work a long shift as a Secretary at St. Mungo's and there was no time. She said she was lucky to get the work. Lucy knew her mother had wanted to go into the Auror programme, but that had all changed when she got married. Severus had, as tactfully as possible, offered her the position and she had jumped at the chance, ignoring her husband's all-too-loudly expressed opinions on the subject.

Evan pulled the door open and dragged his friend through the entrance hall and into the kitchen on the right. "I'm back," he announced.

"I knew something was missing," a laconic voice from the head of the oak table drawled. "I thought it was the mustard."

"I brought Lucy."

"So I see," said the same voice, and glancing in its direction, Lucy smiled into Dr. Severus Snape's obsidian eyes. "Good morning, both of you," he said. "And now everybody's here, shall we eat?"

"You bet!" Evan grinned back, and made for the table.

Lucy took a moment to savour the scene. The kitchen; cheerful brick and oak. Lily pausing to smile at her as she set steaming dishes of ham and scrambled eggs before the people gathered around the table. The wonderful smells.

"Come on, Luce," Evan tugged on her hand, which he was still holding, and she quickly settled into a chair next to Severus, who was wearing a charcoal grey shirt, and an expensive-looking indigo cloak with a silver clasp in the shape of a phoenix.

Evan slouched beside her, until his mother poked him with a spoon as she made her way to her own seat, opposite Lucy, and he quickly sat up straighter, removing his elbows from the table.

Lucy thought, as she always thought, the older woman was beautiful. Her dark red hair hung in licks and curls like fire down her back. She was wearing a yellow blouse, fitted jeans and an emerald cloak, and her eyes glowed as she laughed at something her sister had said to her.

Petunia Longbottom was a muggle. She was not a particularly beautiful woman, but she had a strong, honest face, masses of curly blonde hair and melting brown eyes. Her husband Frank had a broad smile and very white teeth, both of which he was displaying to the room now, as he leaned forward to listen to his wife's conversation.

Neville Algernon Longbottom was the last breakfast guest. He didn't particularly look like either of his parents, but he did look particularly like both of them. He had blonde hair that curled slightly, big brown eyes and his father's winning grin. "Hi, Evan," he waved slightly. "Hello…Lucy."

She only nodded back. She didn't know Evan's cousin very well.

"Looking forward to Hogwarts?"

"Rather," Evan nodded, eyes bright.

"Are…are you coming today?" He was looking at Lucy again.

She shrugged. "I don't think so…"

"Her parents are taking her some other time," Evan interrupted, much to her relief. "Shut up and eat, Neville."

After a quick check to make sure nobody's parents were looking, Neville poked his tongue out at his cousin and made a face, before reaching for a slab of bread and the ham dish, which was slowly making its way around the table.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Evan whispered, after having to shove the dish directly in front of her elegant nose to get her attention.

She blinked, and taking it, began systematically piling up her plate. Finally sustained with a great mound of ham, a mountain of eggs, an ocean of tomato sauce and enough bread to rebuild the great wall of China, she glanced sideways at her best friend and sighed. "Why can't my family be like yours?" she whispered with a faint smile. "And you owe me a Knut. Don't think I'll forget."

"I know you too well. I'll get it to you later."

"I'll collect."

Emerald eyes locked on sapphire for a moment, then both children giggled and applied themselves to the task of emptying their plates.

Severus and Frank were reminiscing over their days in the Order of the Phoenix as the family piled their crockery into the sink, with Lily dividing her attention between occasional interjections into her husband's conversation, and the one concerning the lifespan of begonias she was having with her sister.

Evan was fastening his moss-green cloak, and Neville was hopping from one foot to the other in excitement.

Severus flicked his wand lazily at the sink, and the dishes began washing themselves, clinking softly in the background. Lucy watched them in fascination, as the scourer scrubbed and the cloth wiped and polished, and the towel dried and the clean plate hopped back into the cupboard. She guessed her parents didn't know that charm, but it was one she had every intention of learning the minute she had her wand. And that was one piece of equipment she fully intended owning, even if she had to sell all the furniture, as her mother had threatened to do yesterday. That awful yesterday, when her letter had arrived and happy plans for a shopping trip had been abandoned when her Father had buried his head in his hands and confessed to bankrupting them.

Suddenly there was a loud and furious banging on the front door, and Lucy jumped. Severus paused in mid sentence and looked curiously towards the noise.

"I'll get it," Evan offered, and swept out of the kitchen. There was a brief silence, then Evan's indignant shout was heard: "Hey!"

The kitchen door opened with a bang, and James Potter stalked into the room, closely followed by his unhappy-looking wife.

Never in her entire life had Lucy wanted so much the floor to open up and swallow her as she did then. She was about ready to die from shame. James looked awful. There were dark patches under his eyes, his clothes looked like he had slept in them (he probably had) and he hadn't shaved for several days.

And to her greater mortification, he brought a strong smell of Firewhiskey into the previously harmonious kitchen.

"Sorry," shrugged Evan, wandering in after the pair. "I just opened the door and whoops! In they came."

"I knew it!" James snarled, glaring daggers at his daughter. "What are you doing here? Your mother and I didn't give you permission to leave!" He violently grabbed Lucy's arm. "Just wait until I get you home."

Behind him, Evan's eyes darkened alarmingly.

Lucy's, on the other hand, were blazing pools of fire. "You wouldn't know if I had asked you or not, sacked out on the couch with a bottle of…"

"That will do!" he bellowed, turning white with rage and raising his other hand.

"James!" Mary implored.

"Potter!" A razor sharp voice sliced the air. "_That will do. _This is my home, and I will not have you creating a scene in it. Either remove your unwelcome presence or sit down and be quiet."

"Don't worry," James muttered, glaring sulkily at the taller man. "I'm going. But she…" he indicated Lucy with a vicious nod of the head "…is coming with me. Us."

Lucy glared and opened her mouth, but before she could deliver a biting retort, the man who had faced and killed Lord Voldemort, the man with powers so great that even Albus Dumbledore spoke of him in awe folded his arms and locked obsidian eyes with her father's bloodshot hazel ones. He said in a voice as cold as ice and smooth as oil and honey, "Over my lifeless corpse, Potter."

James's eyes widened. He trembled slightly, his grip on his daughter's arm slackened.

"Sit down, both of you," Lily interjected, ever the voice of reason. "Have some tea or coffee, and maybe some breakfast."

"That's right, my dear," Severus muttered, eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned against the counter. "Sober him up." The last words were added in an undertone to his brother in law, who chuckled quietly. Lily quelled the two men with a glare and grabbed two mugs, which had just finished cleaning themselves and hopping away, from their hooks.

Mr and Mrs Potter gulped the steaming brew, ate half a dozen slices of buttered bread each, and polished off the eggs and ham.

"Seems these people didn't eat for a week," Evan heard his uncle mutter, fiddling with the gold clasps of his maroon cloak.

Lily and Petunia chatted quietly to Mary while she ate. Severus and Frank chatted to the three children about Hogwarts, debating the relative merits of Slytherin and Gryffindor. James sulked over his bread and raspberry jam.

"We ought to get out of here soon, Lil," Severus remarked suddenly, interrupting Frank at the crescendo of a magnificent argument. He had extracted a solid silver pocket watch and was studying it. "Lucy, you can come with us if you want."

James opened his mouth, but those bright onyx eyes flickered over towards him and he quickly closed it again. After a moment, he settled on, "We're coming. Mary and me."

"Mary and _I,_" Severus corrected, rising to his feet for the second time that morning.

If he had any apprehensions regarding the success of a shopping expedition with a noticeable lack of funds he didn't show it. Mary, on the other hand, turned several shades paler than usual.

"We'll meet you in Gringotts, then," Severus drawled, holding his hand out to his wife. "Apparate or use the Floo network. I really don't care. Powder's on the mantelpiece. Ready my dear? Evan?"

They both nodded. "Come here, Lucy," Lily added apprehensively, obviously expecting James to land his family in a chimney pot or something. She probably wasn't wrong. Lucy hurried over to her side and breathed in a gorgeous scent of cinnamon and field flowers that always followed the older woman around.

"Frank?"

The brown-haired man had one arm firmly around his wife's waist, and his son's arm was clasped in his other hand. "Ready here, governor."

"All right. Gringotts. See you soon."

And as James and Mary Potter watched, the other two families melted away into thin air.

Mary studied her husband's slightly befuddled eyes. He probably would end up splinching himself, as Severus obviously expected. It seemed so _ironic _now, looking back, that Gryffindor house had unanimously looked down their noses at the dark Slytherin boy, warning Lily that he was no good, and she could do so much better. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she shoved him towards the large fireplace. "We're Flooing," she said, her tone brooking no argument. "And I hope, for your sake we can get everything we need for Lucy with what I've brought and what's in the safe. If you were kind enough to leave us anything."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing, it is all a tribute to J

_Disclaimer: __Apologies to J.K. Rowling for stealing all of her characters, but Evan and Lucy are such a handful, I'm quite happy with them! Oh, and once again, please review!_

Lucy Potter was walking slowly up a white stone staircase towards the burnished bronze doors of a snowy-white building which towered over the other little shops in Diagon Alley. A goblin, more than a head shorter than Evan, who was holding her hand, was wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, and he bowed as they entered.

Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn,_

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"You'd be mad to rob Gringotts," Frank remarked, watching Lucy's fascinated stare. "Rumour has it they even have dragons guarding the High-security vaults."

Lucy had never been inside Gringotts, but she could easily believe that.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. The group made their way to the counter.

"Good morning," said Frank cheerfully. "We've come to take some money out."

"You have your key, sir?"

"Sure do." He dug in his pocket and produced a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely. "That seems to be in order."

"Oh, and my brother-in-law, too. And…yes, here they are."

James and Mary Potter were hurrying through the silver doors, brushing soot from their clothes.

The goblin peered around Frank and wrinkled his nose at the bedraggled couple. Lucy watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Dr. Snape, you have your key?"

Severus silently dropped it into the goblin's outstretched hand, and James, reaching the counter, sullenly did likewise.

"Very well," said the goblin, handing their keys back to them. "I'll have somebody take you down. Griphook! Brocklehurst!"

Griphook and Brocklehurst were two more goblins. Once Mary had finished making herself presentable again, she found herself and her husband following one of them – Griphook, she thought – through one of the doors, while the Longbottoms were ushered out of another by Brocklehurst. She glanced questioningly at her old school friend, who was also with them.

"Your vault's near ours," Lily explained, her fingers twined with her husband's.

Lucy, who had been expecting more marble on the other side of the door, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downwards and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards them. They piled in, and were off.

At first they just raced through a maze of twisting passages. Lucy tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The cart, she observed, seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Her eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open. Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late – they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

Suddenly the cart braked, coming to a stop opposite a little door in the wall.

Griphook unlocked the door with James's key, and the Snapes politely became very interested in the view over the silent, black water. There was a very, very small pile of silver Sickles inside, and just one gold Galleon. "Couldn't carry it all, could you?" Mary whispered savagely to her husband, feeling right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her purse.

"I never know," Evan said, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?" even though he probably knew perfectly well.

"No," said Lucy, even though she did too. "Me neither."

He squeezed her hand, and then they climbed back into the cart.

Lucy blinked when the door of the Snape's vault swung open a few minutes later. Inside were mounds of gold, columns of silver! It was a fortune.

Evan felt awful, and tried to block the contents of the vault from view as his mother filled a leather shoulder bag.

One wild car-ride later they stood blinking back in the sun on Diagon Alley. Mary drew her daughter aside. "If you can make do with my old wand – it still works, just…not very well – and second hand robes and books, I think we can just about manage it," she said apologetically. "Can you borrow a cauldron and, um, your scales and vials from Evan's family?"

Lucy nodded mutely, trying to remember that it didn't matter how shabby she looked at Hogwarts, only that she was a star pupil.

It was still awful, though, wondering what she was going to look like on her first day.

"Luce, c'mon! We're going to get our uniforms first, are you coming?"

She looked questioningly at her mother, who smiled in obvious relief. "Yes, of course, love. You go with your friends today, and we'll wait for you in the Leaky Cauldron. We'll do our shopping some other time, when things are more…settled."

Lucy nodded, and hurried to Evan's side.

Lily and Petunia intercepted Mary as she began to follow James, who was sulkily heading off to the pub and another drink.

They whispered together for a moment, and there was a strange gleam in Lily's eyes as she nodded fiercely.

Mary looked startled, but she offered the other women a smile – the first genuine smile Lucy had seen on her mother's face for a long time.

She was curious. Glad, but curious.

Lily beamed back, then kissed Mary's cheek and dragged her sister back towards their husbands, who were walking slowly down the street. She draped herself into Severus's arms and began whispering urgently in his ear.

"Tell you what," he remarked suddenly, nodding and looking up. "Frank and I will pick up the books, the writing stuff and the potions ingredients. You two take the kids to get fitted up, and we'll meet you outside Ollivander's. All right?"

Behind him, Petunia nodded. "That'll save a lot of time. And the crowds will be dreadful in the bookshop right now.

"All right then, Sev," Lily agreed. "See you at the wand shop." She kissed her husband on the cheek and then she and her sister swept their young charges into _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. _

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. "Three more for Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Lily started to speak. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up hem. Madam Maulkin stood Evan on a stool next to him, draped a long set of robes around his shoulders and began to pin it to the right length. Lucy and Neville watched for a moment, before a third witch smilingly ushered Lucy onto another stool and reached for the pile of Hogwarts' robes.

"Oh," whispered Lucy, turning to Lily. "I'm not…"

"Shush," said the older woman into Lucy's shiny gold hair, and giving her a squeeze. "We've already decided we want to give you your birthday present a bit early this year." Lucy weighed up her options. She also knew she should politely refuse, thinking of how it would embarrass her parents. But quite honestly, she didn't care if they were embarrassed or not. Well, maybe she cared about her mother. And besides that, she didn't like her chances of getting Lily Snape to change her mind once it was made up.

"Don't worry," Lily added gently. "I've arranged it with your mother…it's all fine."

She pulled away and moved to sit on the overstuffed arm chair next to her sister, who was reading a copy of _Witch Weekly. _

Evan had been watching the proceedings with some interest, but when his mother had gone he glanced back towards the pale, blonde boy.

"Hullo," said the boy as their gazes locked, "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," said Evan.

"My mother's next door buying my books, and as soon as I've finished in here, I'm going to drag her off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own, do you?"

Lucy shrugged. "Maybe in case we haven't been taught properly."

"Come on, Lucy. How difficult is it to stay on a broom, really?" Evan asked, rolling his eyes.

"You piker! You want your own broom at school too! And here's me thinking you were an intellectual." She nudged him with her elbow.

"Have either of you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"I've got a Comet Two Sixty," Lucy offered.

"Nimbus two-thousand," Evan muttered finally.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"A bit," Lucy shrugged. "Not really my thing."

"Too many rules for her," Evan grinned. "I've played before."

"I do, too – Mother says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Evan cheerfully, as though this was the best news he'd had in weeks. "Could be any of them."

The boy glanced over at Lucy, who shrugged and shook her head.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?'

"I don't know," said Lucy, seriously. "But from what I've heard about the people in Hufflepuff it would have to be – for me, anyway – leave or sleep in the corridor."

"Lucy doesn't suffer bumbling pleasantry gladly," Evan explained. He paused thoughtfully for a second, before remarking, "My father was in Slytherin."

"What about your mother?"

"Gryffindor."

"Really? Well, I suppose it does happen. Is she your sister?" He had turned his attention to Lucy.

"No. Lucy's my friend, and Neville –" nodding at the boy, who was squashed between his mother and aunt, patiently waiting. " – is my cousin."

"Why are you with them?" the boy asked Lucy, curiously, "Where are your parents?"

She shrugged. "At the Leaky Cauldron. Probably pretending they don't have a daughter."

The boy blinked, and Evan fought the urge to laugh.

Just then, the first witch straightened. "That's you done, my dear," she said to the boy, and beckoned Neville, who almost ran across the room and scrambled onto the stool the boy had vacated.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," he remarked, collecting the bag with his new uniform in it and sauntering out through the door, back out into the street.

"Fancies himself," was Lucy's verdict.

A while later, they were out in the sun again, each child fully equipped with:

_Three sets of plain work roes (black)_

_One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

as well as new shoes, socks, grey under-uniforms, and Lucy was the proud owner of a pair of striped stockings for winter.

They were slowly making their way to Ollivanders. The only place for wands.

Frank and Severus were not _exactly _waiting for them outside the shop. They had found a nearby pub – the Sorcerer's Arms – and were deep in conversation over large glasses of Firewhiskey and a bowl of salted peanuts.

Gathered at their feet were _three _bags from Flourish and Blott's, _three _packages from the Apothecary, and _three _cartons that looked suspiciously like they might hold cauldrons, scales, vials, telescopes, parchment, ink and quills. Lucy gave a little skip of pleasure, and Evan squeezed her hand, happy because she was happy.

"I know it's shallow," she confided. "But I wanted so badly to look right for Hogwarts, rather than…you know. Second hand robes and battered old school books."

"Yes," said Evan, "I know."

"Hullo ladies," Frank said, smiling winningly. "And gentlemen."

"We were beginning to think you'd forgotten about us," Severus added, draining his cup and rising from the table. "Come on, then. Let's do this properly."

Without him doing anything, the bags, boxes and packages jerked into the air and swooped after him as he hearded his family towards their last stop.

It was a narrow and shabby shop with peeling gold letters over the door reading _Ollivanders: Makers of fine Wands since 382 BC. _A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly chair, to which Frank ushered Petunia to wait.

Evan shivered as the door closed behind them. He wrapped his cloak tightly around himself and stared at the thousands of long, narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very air here seemed to tingle with ancient and powerful magic. He glanced up at his father, who smiled back reassuringly.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Evan, Lucy and Neville all jumped. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Evan, undauntedly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you here soon. Evan Snape." It wasn't a question. "You do look like your father." He glanced up at Severus and smiled faintly. "How do you do, sir? Nice to see you again…walnut and phoenix feather. Rare combination, the phoenix and the darker woods…fourteen and a half inches. Yes. Powerful wand, very powerful. I'm glad it fell into the right hands. When I say fell, of course, the wand chooses the wizard."

Mr. Ollivander turned his attention back to Evan, who could now see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"Hmm…well now Mr Snape, let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

Evan silently held out his right arm. "This one. I'm right handed, see?"

"Yes, yes. Just so, just so." He measured Evan from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr Snape. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand…"

At this, Lucy shuddered at the idea of using her mother's old wand, and Severus placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, almost as though he had read her thoughts. She had heard a very little about his childhood from her parents, and from photographs Evan had shown her. It wasn't much, but she did know that he probably guessed exactly how she was feeling. Smiling fleetingly up at him, she gave Evan her full attention again.

Evan, meanwhile, had suddenly realised that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr Ollivander was flitting around the shelves taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr Snape. Try this one. Beachwood and phoenix feather. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Good wand for charm work. Just take it and give it a wave."

Evan took the wand and swished it through the air, but Mr Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once. "Maple and unicorn hair. Nine and a half inches. Springy. A bit more power. Excellent for transfigurations. Try – "

Evan tired – but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back.

"No, no – here, ebony and dragon heartstring. Eight and a half inches. Go on, go on, try it out."

Evan tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the small countertop, but the more wands Mr Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination, ash-wood and dragon heartstring, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Evan took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down trough the dusty air and a stream of blue and silver sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Frank whooped and applauded, his parents were both smiling broadly and Mr Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good! How perfect, how wonderfully perfect."

"Pardon?" asked Evan, intrigued. He watched while Mr Ollivander put his wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, "What's perfect?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Evan with his pale stare, and Evan gazed right back, eyes glittering like jewels in the dim room.

"It takes skill and courage to harvest the magical heartstrings of a dragon without killing the beast, Mr Snape, but it can be done. It is far beyond my ability, so I engage other, more powerful wizards to do the work. It seems truly perfect that this wand should fall to you, the son of the wizard who brought me its core." He made a sort of half-bow to Severus.

Evan opened his mouth and closed it again, then turned to his father in surprise. Severus shrugged in an "I'll explain later," sort of way, and with that Evan had to be content.

Neville was less difficult, going through only six wands before silver sparks danced from a wand. Nine inches. Unicorn hair and willow. Nice and bendy.

But Lucy, she took almost as long as Evan had, before identical blue and silver sparks to his flashed. She was holding a beech-wood wand. Ten and a half inches. Swishy. Dragon's heartstring.

Once again the adults cheered, and Mr Olivander cried, "Oh, how wonderful! Very good, very good! Well, well, well…curious, very curious."

Evan and Lucy exchanged looks as Mr Olivander began to wrap Lucy's wand, still muttering softly to himself, "Curious…curious."

"Excuse me," said Lucy, just as Evan had. "But what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander held the wrapped box out to her and fixed her with his stare. "Well, it so happens, Miss Potter, that Dr Snape had skill enough to take another heartstring from the same Norwegian Ridgeback. Just one other. It seems very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand, when its brother – why, its brother was destined for the young man I believe you call your best friend?"

Once more Lucy and Evan exchanged mystified looks, and the adults stared.

Severus and Frank paid twenty-five galleons for all of their wands, and Mr Ollivander bowed them from the store.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All credit to J

_Disclaimer: All credit to J.K, along with my sincere apologies for any OCCness. But since this is a completely different universe…_

It was now late afternoon, and the sun hung low in the sky. The group made their way back down Diagon Alley, through the wall, into the Leaky Cauldron where the Potters were waiting. They didn't look as though they had been very successful forgetting they had a child though, and jumped up as soon as Lucy skipped into view.

"Where on earth have you been?" James demanded. "Your mother's been frantic…what's that?" He had spotted the extra set of school supplies.

"Lucy's birthday present," Mary replied firmly, nodding to the Snapes with a tight little smile.

Severus added, before James could say anything else, "Don't make a scene about it now, Potter, I'm really not in the mood. You can yell at me after I've had a beer, something to eat and maybe some coffee or tea, and finished all the paperwork that's piling up on my desk. Come see me again – oh, sometime after Christmas."

James spluttered, but Severus was already ushering his family into a booth.

"Have you eaten?" Lily asked kindly.

"Yes," said Mary, hesitantly. "It was nice of you, Lil, to do all of this for Lucy. I appreciate it, but…James"

"I know, believe me, I know," Severus interjected, brushing past her on his way to the barman. "But he'll get over it, and it's for the best. Trust me."

Mary sighed. "I think we'll go home," she said. "Send Lucy back tonight, or owl me if she's sleeping over, all right?"

"All right," agreed Lily. "And Mary? You know you can come over for a drink and dinner any time you like. You don't need to wait for an invitation."

"I know. Thanks, Lil."

She took James's arm and firmly steered him towards the fireplace. The green flames roared and the two were gone.

Lucy sighed in relief, wishing, however, that her mother could stay. Severus returned with two frothing ales, pumpkin juice, and butterbeer. "Food's on the way. I hope beef sandwiches are all right?"

"Mmm," they chorused. There was a brief lull while everybody sampled their drinks.

"I must say," remarked Petunia, "That when I first tried this stuff I thought it was awful, but I quite like it now."

"Definitely an acquired taste," Lily agreed.

The sandwiches arrived, savoury chunks of beef, bitter tomato, lettuce and pickled onions that made your eyes water squashed between golden slabs of fresh bread.

Evan chewed in silence, gazing thoughtfully at his friend while she ate and feeling slightly bothered by the events of Ollivanders. He didn't believe in coincidences. "You didn't tell me you ever hunted dragons," he said finally, turning to his father and licking mayonnaise from his fingers.

"Only that one time. I was sixteen."

"Sixteen? You were hunting dragons for Ollivander at sixteen?" Lucy blurted, sapphire eyes wide.

Severus nodded and shrugged. "The pay was good, and Merlin! I needed the money."

Evan put his elbows on the table, his chin in his hands and thought about that. "We weren't always rich, were we?"

His father shook his head. "Your mother was well off, but my family wasn't. I swore I'd work hard, make something of myself, prove everybody wrong – well…" he reached over and placed his hand over Lily's, smiling. "Almost everybody."

"So what happened? How come you needed money so bad, just then?"

"Well…" he looked a little embarrassed. "It was getting close to Christmas, and I wanted to buy your mother a present."

"What did you get her?" Evan asked curiously, leaning forward.

Severus and Lily exchanged looks. "An engagement ring," he said.

And the three children's jaws dropped.

"See?" demanded Frank. "I told you at the time it was ridiculous. Sixteen! Merlin."

Severus winked at him. "Oh, well. Better late than never, Frank."

His brother in law choked on his last swig of beer, but Severus ignored him.

He rose to his feet and stretched. "Come on you lot, it's getting late, and if we want to get ice cream before the store closes we'd better hurry."

The children cheered, and even Petunia looked interested. The conversation turned to preferred flavours, and lasted until they were crowded in the store, and Lily was asking for strawberry with chopped nuts, Severus for caramel, and everybody else for chocolate. Evan wanted hot fudge sauce with his, which smelled so good Severus handed his cup back and demanded they drown the pale gold scoops.

Lily giggled. "And I always wondered where Evan got his sweet tooth from," she remarked.

"Surely you don't mean me?" Severus demanded in mock indignation. "I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, this from a woman who once ate an entire box of chocolate frogs in ten minutes?"

"I don't remember that," Frank remarked, looking interested.

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?" Lily demanded.

"What happened?" Petunia asked. "Didn't it make you sick?"

"I was sick just watching her," Severus averred.

"It was on the train that first trip to Hogwarts, Tuney," Lily explained. "It was the first time I had seen chocolate frogs."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing (very little); I have taken a little creative licence here regarding travel methods and time

_Disclaimer: I own nothing (very little); I have taken a little creative licence here regarding travel methods and time. If it doesn't exactly make sense, please don't flame me for it. Kisses!_

On the crystalline morning of September the first, Lucy woke up at six o' clock and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. She got up and picked her way along the dark corridor to the bathroom, where she scrubbed herself all over, thoroughly, and dressed in her new Hogwarts uniform. A crisp white shirt, and grey sweater, a pleated grey skirt, white socks, back shoes and a tie striped in blue, yellow red and green. Then she folded her black robes, and her black cloak with the school crest on the right shoulder, and bundled them into her satchel.

After combing her hair, and checking her Hogwarts list to make sure she wasn't missing anything, she fed Socrates, a sleek coal black British Shorthair, with some smoked ham from the larder, and used the rest to make herself some sandwiches. Then she pulled out her copy of Wuthering Heights, resignedly settling down to read, and wait for her parents to wake up.

Three hours later, the Potter family were sitting at the scrubbed wooden table eating porridge. There was no sugar, treacle, cream or even milk, and Lucy wondered if she would be able to choke down an entire bowl.

Mary kept glaring at James, between swallows, and he just sat there, staring down into the hot cereal and stirring it slowly.

It was possibly the most depressing meal of her life.

She was ridiculously relieved when Mary began to clear off the table. "I'll take you to the station, love," she said. "Your father doesn't feel up to it."

Which meant he had been drinking. Again. Still, at least her schoolmates wouldn't have to see him like that.

"That's all right Mum," she replied earnestly. "The Snapes are taking me."

"Oh," said Mary quietly. "All right, dear." Her eyes flickered to her husband's lethargic figure. "Perhaps its all for the best," she added. "I'll shrink your trunk down for you so you can carry it."

She pulled out her wand, and an instant later Lucy's huge, heavy trunk was the size of a small suitcase, and she was able to pick it up by the flap on the belt holding it closed. She walked towards the door, with Socrates trotting behind her. Then she changed her mind and turned around, marched over to her mother and hugged her furiously around the waist. "I'll miss you, Mum."

Mary pulled her closer. "Me too, sweetheart. Me too. Have a wonderful time at Hogwarts…I always did. And give my love to Lily." She looked suspiciously close to tears.

"I will, Mum."

"I'm sorry, darling. So very sorry about everything."

"I know, Mum."

One final squeeze, and she and Socrates were out the front door, on their way to the Snapes' house.

Evan opened the door. "Hi, Luce. Have you eaten?"

"Half a bowl of porridge at mine," she replied, setting her case down on the porch. "I made sandwiches for the train, but I ate them on the way over," she added sadly.

"Come in, then. Mum's just making a cut lunch for me. Do you like cheese and mustard?"

"Sounds great," she replied promptly, and followed her friend into the bright, cheerful kitchen.

"Mum," said Evan, "will you make a lunch for Lucy as well?"

"I already have." She turned around, beaming, and handed them each a brown paper bag.

Lucy sat down at the table and peeked inside. There was a packet of fat sandwiches, as Evan had promised, an apple, a carton of strawberry milk, and a cold sausage. She stashed the bag in her satchel, and clutched it to her stomach to wait. At her feet, Socrates and Ptolemy – Evan's huge marmalade tom – were enjoying a good feed of raw steak, courtesy of the Snapes' well-stocked meat safe.

"Ready to go, everybody?" Severus, who was wearing a black travelling cloak, had just walked into the room.

Three smiling faces answered him, and the family trooped out of the house into the back garden.

Severus pulled out his wand, and cast an Invisibility charm on each of them.

"Aren't we Apparating?" Lucy asked, bewildered.

"No. We're going to make things a little more interesting, sweetheart," said Lily, and held out her hand, ready to grip something.

Beside her, Evan and Severus were doing the same thing, so, mystified, she mimicked them.

"All right. One…two…three…"

Four broomsticks came shooting through the air towards them. One, two, three, four, they each grabbed a handle and mounted, the cats scrambling up behind their owners.

The next second they were airborne, flashing through the warm summer air like dark, graceful birds.

She heard a rustle of feathers next to her head, and realised Mercury – Evan's tawny-owl – was swooping along behind them.

Lucy squealed with pleasure at the rush of wind in her face; this was something she knew, something she loved.

They skimmed over houses and streets, over brooks and fields and rivers. The wide, wonderful sky seems to go on forever.

Lucy was just starting to get a little tired of hanging on, when Evan whipped up beside her, leaned over, touched her shoulder and pointed.

The Thames river snaked, blue and beautiful below them, and they skimmed down to meet it. Lucy skirted a low barge and dappled her fingers into the water.

Soon they were whizzing through tower bridge, past red tile roofs and brick chimneys and sweeping to a halt just behind King's Cross.

The cats leapt from their perches, Lily laughed and attempted to straighten her lovely hair, and Severus – after removing the charms - dragged Evan off to find a trolley.

Ten minutes later, their luggage had been restored to its normal size and strapped into place, and they were rushing across the crowded platform, pushing it in front of them towards the ticket booth between platforms nine and ten.

Lucy screwed up her eyes tightly and clung to the trolley as they drew closer, running alongside Lily.

The next thing she knew they were barrelling out through an iron gate onto platform nine and three quarters. A sign overhead said: _Hogwarts Express, departs 11 o' clock, _and sure enough, a big, black, steam engine was drawn up alongside the platform, which was thronging with people. Owls hooted indignantly to each other from their cages, and Cicero hooted back from Evan's shoulder. Cats of every colour wound their way through the mass of legs, causing several stumbles and a few rude words, and Socrates and Ptolemy looked very much as though they would like to have joined them, but remained by the ankles of their own humans.

The carriages were already full of students, many hanging out the windows for prolonged goodbyes to their families, and Lucy and Evan began pushing their trolley down the platform in search of an empty seat.

They passed a three boys and a younger girl, all with bright red hair, gathered around a short, plump witch. She had just pulled out a handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

"The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"_Mum _– geroff." He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the older boys.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

Another boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes and Lucy noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter _P _on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves – "

"Oh, are you a _prefect, _Percy?" said the other older boy, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the first boy. They looked as though they might be twins. "Once – "

"Or twice – "

"A minute – "

"All summer – "

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a prefect, " said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term – send me an owl when you get there." She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, You two – this year, you behave yourselves. If it get one more owl telling me you've – you've blown up a toilet or – "

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mum."

"It's _not funny. _And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

Lucy giggled, and quickly began pushing the trolley again.

Finding an empty compartment near the end of the train, they stowed their trunks safely in the nearby baggage compartment with a little help from Evan's parents.

"Hurry up, you two," Severus said. "It's nearly eleven."

As if to prove his point, a whistle sounded, long and loud.

Evan lifted Socrates and Ptolemy into the carriage, then he and Lucy scrambled aboard. "Come on, quickly! Before anybody else gets here."

"That's not very sociable, Lucy."

"Oh, you know what I mean."

Evan opened the window a little more and stuck his head out.

"You two take good care of each other while you're away!" his father told him, and put an arm around Lily's shoulders as she smiled and looked like she was trying not to cry.

"Have a wonderful time," she added, standing on tiptoes to kiss her son's cheek.

"And stay out of trouble." The man glanced up at Lucy. "Think you two rug-rats can manage that?"

Evan paused, tilting his face to the heavens to think about it. "Well…we'll _try,_" he promised finally.

Severus laughed. "Write us when you get there!"

"We will!"

They started to wave goodbye as the train began to move.

There were definitely tears in Lily's lovely eyes as she waved back, still smiling.

Lucy and Evan watched his parents disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Lucy felt a great leap of excitement, and squeezed Evan's hand.

They settled back into the seats together, and she rested her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her so his warm travelling cloak covered them both, and they stared at the world rushing by, Socrates stretched over their knees, Ptolemy curled on the seat opposite like a huge and fluffy orange cushion and Cicero asleep with his head under his wing.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Full credit to Rowling, especially for these next few chapters

_Disclaimer: Full credit to Rowling, especially for these __next few chapters!_

_Author's note: I'm over the moon with the number of people who have read and enjoyed this story! Don't worry, people! I'm not going anywhere, so keep reading and enjoying!_

As the morning wore on, the train carried them out of London and they found themselves speeding past fields full of cows and sheep, lanes and hedgerows flicking across the window.

About midday there was a great clattering outside in the corridor, and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything from the trolley, dears?"

Evan shook Lucy off and jumped up. "You want anything, Luce?"

Socrates scrambled out from underneath the girl, looking vastly put-upon, and leaped to the opposite chair beside Mercury. The two cats exchanged pained glances.

Lucy scrambled upright, rummaged in her pocket for the silver her mother had given her and followed Evan into the corridor.

Evan bought a bag of Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans and a lot of chocolate frogs. Lucy selected two cauldron cakes and a liquorice wand, which she had eaten before Evan had even finished deciding.

They dumped the goodies on the opposite chair, where they were briefly investigated by the two cats. Upon discovering the undeniably packaged state of the food, both animals turned reproving stares to their young humans.

Lucy pulled out her cut lunch, and then watched with interest as Evan extracted a small parcel of roast beef, which he opened and offered to their feline companions.

This, it seems, was much more acceptable.

They ate all the sandwiches, and the twin red apples. Evan gave half of his sausage to Lucy, and the other half to the cats.

Well, he didn't exactly give it to them. Lucy was rather of the opinion that he had been wanting to eat it himself, until Ptolemy presented himself onto the boy's grey-trousered knees and calmly nipped it out of his fingers.

Evan sighed and ripped open a chocolate frog, stuffing it into his mouth before it could make good its escape. He picked out the card and laughed. "See who I got!" He turned the face of it towards her. A man leaned against the side of the frame, gazing at her in a bored sort of way with very black eyes. Underneath the picture was the name _Severus Snape. _

Lucy giggled and reached for her cauldron cake. "What does it say?"

Evan 's eyes flickered from her face to the writing on the back of the card.

_Severus Snape, Order of Merlin, First Class__, is currently head of St. Mungo's Hospital. Considered by many to be one of the greatest wizards of modern time, Snape is especially famous for his virtually single-handed defeat of the Dark Lord and his followers in 1986, for his work on Lycanthropy, and for his contribution to Medimagic, specifically the treatment and cure of cancer. Dr. Snape lives in Derbyshire with his wife and son, and enjoys orchestral music and football._

"He's gone," Lucy remarked. Evan turned the card over and saw that the photograph frame was, indeed, now empty.

"Have you been practicing?" Evan asked her, rummaging in the satchel he had been wearing and producing his wand.

"Sure. I've only tried a few simple spells, but they've all worked so far."

"Me too…"

The compartment door slid open again, and a girl poked her head inside. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes and uniform.

"Has anybody seen a big white rat? Only a boy called Neville's lost one."

"Neville? Longbottom?"

"Evan?" said Neville's voice from behind the girl, and his cousin pushed passed her. "There you are!"

"Sure am. Have a chocolate frog." He tossed one to Neville. "And what's this I hear about you losing Scratches already?"

"He was here a minute ago," said Neville sadly.

"Why did you want a rat anyway?"

"Well, I've already got an owl, and Dad asked if there was anything I wanted as a going-away present and I didn't want a broomstick but then I saw Scratches in the pet store and…"

"That's how I got Socrates," the girl remarked, reaching across to pet her feline companion. "Who's this?"

"I'm Hermione Granger," the girl said. She was looking at the wand in Evan's hand. Are you doing magic? Let's see, then."

"Oh, all right." He trained the point of his wand on one of the chocolate frogs and muttered something. It turned into a dove and flew out of the window, as Lucy considerately opened it.

Hermione Granger's jaw dropped. "Marvellous!" she breathed, eyes shining. "I've only tried a few simple spells from the books – I've learned them all by heart, of course, I only hope it will be enough – nothing as complicated as that. Nobody else in my family is magical at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is – who are you? Are you friends of Neville?"

"He's my cousin. I'm Evan Snape, this is Lucy Potter."

"Oh, you're Severus Snape's son, aren't you? I know all about him, of course, I got a few books for extra reading and he's in _Modern Magical History_, _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"So I've been told," said Evan tiredly. "I've also been told, ad infinitum, that he's in _Famous Wizards and Witches volume three_, _Potion Pioneers_ and _Magical Medics_, just to name a few."

Lucy giggled, and Neville grinned, sinking down onto the seat opposite the pair, just beside the cats, both of whom were still asleep, but lifted their grey and orange heads and stared predatorily as a small, white furry rat scuttled in.

"Scratches!" Neville cried joyfully, scooping it up. "Hey…Socrates…no!" He was forced to hold his rat at arms length away from the cat as he began slinking up his legs towards the rodent.

Lucy stood matter-of-factly and removed her pet from the front of Neville's new school jersey.

"Hey…watch out, you'll rip it!" The boy protested

"Have a seat, Hermione," Evan offered, as Lucy bundled up Socrates. "And a chocolate frog if you want one."

"Thank you," said Hermione Granger, selecting a frog and pulling the wrapper off. "I've started collecting, you know, although I don't really like sweets."

"I do," said Evan immediately. "I'd offer to give you all of my chocolate frogs, but I already promised Lucy. Who did you get?"

"Merlin. I've got two of him already."

"I've got about five," Lucy remarked.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Apologies again to our favourite creator of our favourite school of witchcraft and wizardry

_Disclaimer: Apologies again to our favourite creator of our favourite school of witchcraft and wizardry!_

It was getting dark. Out of the window, Evan could see shadowed mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train began to slow down.

A voice echoed through the carriages: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage where it is, it will be taken to the school separately."

Evan and Lucy looked at each other, then over at Hermione and Neville, both of whom looked very pale. They shrugged and stuffed the last of the chocolate frogs into their pockets, then joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way towards the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Lucy shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and they heard a deep voice boom: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here?"

It belonged to a giant of a man. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black buttons under all the hair. He wore a very battered moleskin overcoat, with an incredible number of either pockets or patches or both.

"That must be Reubus Hagrid. Keeper of grounds and keys," Evan murmured in Lucy's ear.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark either side of them that Lucy guessed there must be thick trees there.

"The Forbidden Forest," Evan said.

Nobody spoke much. Lucy slipped her hand into Evan's.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Reubus Hagrid called over his shoulder. "Jus' round this bend, here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly on to the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle, ghost-grey against the velvet night, delicate turrets and pointed towers stabbing upwards.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Evan and Lucy were followed into theirs by Neville and Hermione.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then – FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. Lucy trailed her fingers in the water and gazed as though entranced at the ripples they made.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff, they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your rat?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Scratches!" Neville cried self-consciously, holding out his arms.

"Don't tell me he lost him again?" Evan sighed to Lucy.

Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock, by the soft glow of Hagrid's lamp, emerging at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadows of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

It swung open a crack at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robe stood there. She had a very stern face and Evan's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide, and Lucy stared. The entrance hall was so big you could have fitted the whole of the Potters' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and there was a beautiful marble stair-case facing them.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Lucy could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall swept the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, closing the door. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common-room.

"The four houses are called Gryffinor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which had somehow become fastened under his left ear, and on Evan's tie, which he had loosened in the train. He adjusted it self-consciously, and brushed his hair back behind his ears.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Lucy swallowed. A nasty thought had just squirmed into her head.

For years she and Evan had planned their time at Hogwarts; what subjects they would take, all the things they would do together in Hogsmede, and how they would be the best students Hogwarts ever had. But what if…what if they were in different houses?

Evan squeezed her hand a little tighter.

"The Sorting Ceremony," said a sharp voice. Professor McGonagall had returned. "Is about to begin. Now form a line and follow me."

Lucy obediently got into line behind Hermione Granger, with Evan just behind her, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Gee, I loved the "arriving at Howarts" scene in the books and movies

_Disclaimer: Gee, I loved the "arriving at Howarts" scene in the books and movies! Thank-you so much J.K. for creating it!_

The pictures they had seen in their parents' old photograph albums, and in the many books about the school fell far short of reality.

The Great Hall was truly magnificent. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in mid-air over four long tables, laid with glittering golden plates and goblets, where the rest of the students were sitting. At the top of the hall was another long table for the teachers. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.

Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Lucy looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," Evan whispered.

"I know."

"I know you know."

Lucy quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat, which was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

For several seconds there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you ca find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats leek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Huffleuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So, we've just got to try on the hat!" Evan heard the red-haired boy whose family they had seen at King's Cross whisper to Hermione Granger. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wresting a troll."

"Dad said it's a load of garbage, Sorting," he murmured to Lucy.

She nodded wryly. Why did a person have to be wise to be in Ravenclaw, or brave – perhaps stupidly so – to be in Gryffindor. Lucy knew most people were a mix of many of the qualities from all of the houses.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbot, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the far right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender," became the first new Gryffindor and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Lucy could see the twin red-heads catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin, and "Finch-Fletchley, Justin" was another Hufflepuff.

Sometimes, Lucy noticed, the hat shouted out the house name at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus" sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFINDOR!" shouted the hat. The red-haired boy groaned. Clearly he had not been impressed with the brown-haired girl, and clearly coveted Gryffindor house for himself.

When Neville was called, he almost fell over on his way to the stool. "I knew those bloody robes were too long," Lucy whispered.

The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!" he ran off still wearing it, and had to run back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

The pale boy they had met in Madam Malkin's robe shop swaggered forward when "Malfoy, Draco" was called. The hat paused to think for only a few seconds before screaming, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join two heavy, thickset boys – Crab and Goyle, Evan thought – at the Slytherin table. He looked very pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now.

"Moon"…, "Nott"…, "Parkinson"…, then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"…, then "Perks, Sally-Anne"…, and then, at last – "Potter, Lucy!"

She cautiously lowered the hat over her head, and the world went black. She waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in her ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either, true. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's very interesting…so where shall I put you?"

_It doesn't really matter, _Lucy thought back, _no matter what house I'm in, I'm still going to be brave, and loyal and clever. And I'm still going to prove myself. _

"Oh, my goodness, you are a character, aren't you? I'll tell you who you remind me of, very much so. Oh it was a long time ago, now, but you remind me of a girl – Evans, her name was. Lily Evans. Yes. Yes you do – better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Lucy heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. She took it off and walked towards the Gryffindor table, and sat down next to Hermione Granger. And waited.

And now there were only four people to be sorted.

"Snape, Evan!"

As Evan stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like firecrackers all over the hall.

"Snape, did she say?"

"As in Severus Snape?"

The last thing a resigned Evan saw before pulling the hat over his head was the hall full of curious people craning to get a look at him. The next second he was staring at the black interior.

"Well now…another tricky one," said a voice in his ear. "A very tricky one. Brave? Witty? Noble? Loyal? Wise? Cunning? Hmm. All that and more. Yes…yes. Now, where do you belong? Slytherin perhaps? You could be great, it's all there in your head. Slytherin would help you along…"

_Don't you dare, _Evan thought at the hat.

"Well, another feisty one…and something tells me you can't be separated from that girl Potter. No. No. That would be a mistake. Slytherin would be a mistake. Yes. Yes. Better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Evan lifted the hat from his head and, sighing in relief, tossed it to "Weasley, Ronald", the red-haired boy from the station, and walked over to where Lucy was waiting and grinning ear to ear.

She threw her arms around him as soon as he sat down. "We made it, Evan!"

"Welcome to Gryffindor," Percy the Prefect – from the station – was saying pompously to Evan, shaking his hand.

"When do you think we get to eat?" Lucy asked him. "Lunch seems ages ago."

"Dumbledore will make a speech, I guess," Evan replied, glancing down at his empty plate.

Sure enough, Albus Dumbledore was standing up and beaming at the students, his arms spread wide.

"Theatrics," muttered Evan.

"Welcome!" said Albus Dumbledore. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down to applause and cheering.

"Do you think he's mad?" Lucy asked Evan.

"Dad thinks so."

"He said?"

"Mm. Not in so many words. Potatoes, Luce?"

Lucy glanced down and gaped. The big serving dishes on the table were now piled with food. "Better than dinner at my place," Evan remarked.

There was roast beef, and there was roast chicken. Pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup and, for some strange reason, mint humbugs.

Evan was loading boiled potatoes and carrots onto his plate, which he covered in gravy, then helped himself to both legs of a roast chicken.

Lucy, after prolonged thought, decided on steak, peas, ketchup and chips. "Do we get pudding?"

Evan shrugged. "I think so. After everybody's stuffed."

Sure enough, when the Hall seemed to have eaten their full, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean. A moment later, blocks of ice-cream in every flavour you could think of appeared, along with apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding…

Evan scooped strawberry ice-cream into two bowls and held one out to Lucy, as the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half and half," said Seamus Finnigan. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mam didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Lucy?" said Ron Weasley.

"Wizard family. Both sides. Mum works at St. Mungo's."

"What about your Dad."

"He's a menace to society. Especially _my_ society."

She glanced over to where Percy Weasley had cornered Evan – whose mouth was full of ice-cream – and was asking him urgently if his father _might _consider giving him some careers advice; you know; personally. As a favour to his son's house prefect.

Evan was looking very much as though his dessert would shortly be tipped down the front of Percy the Prefect's trousers, before a timely diversion was created by Ptolemy, who had sprung unobserved onto the table, and at that point saved Evan's dessert by tipping Percy's drink into his lap.

Evan swallowed his frozen spoonful and apologized, Lucy rescued Ptolemy from Percy's thrashing cake fork, and the twins appeared from nowhere and – hooting with laughter – marched their brother off to the lav.

The two friends exchanged guilty smiles, and Lucy was stroking Ptolemy soft fur with her free hand, when – it happened very suddenly. The cat's ears flatted against his fuzzy orange head, his amber eyes narrowed to hostile slits and he began to growl, low and menacing, every gleaming sharp tooth displayed, glaring intensely at the High Table. Evan glanced up – but nothing seemed at all out of place. Except two teachers had broken off their conversation and were looking at him.

One was a loose-limbed, lanky man with sort-of sandy hair and serious blue eyes, while the other appeared younger, with an improbably wide smile, very rosy, scrubbed-looking cheeks and lots of chestnut hair.

Evan stared back at them for a few seconds until they both looked away again and resumed their talk. Then he looked over at Lucy, who seemed just as baffled by the cat's behaviour as he was.

When the pudding, too, disappeared, Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinking eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" he concluded, beaming, but Evan noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

The headmaster gave his wan a little flick, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tavles and twisted itself into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

Everybody finished the song at different times.

"He is mad," said Lucy, with conviction. "Dead flies? Fluff?"

Evan shook his head in wonder. "Dad told me about this. I thought he was kidding."

"Ah, music," said Dumbledore, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

"Call that music?" Lucy demanded, as she and the other Gryffindor first-years followed Percy, who had returned in dry trousers, through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. He led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, up more staircases. Evan stifled a yawn, wondering why Gryffindor tower couldn't put in a moving stairway, like Dumbledore had to his office.

Suddenly, they came to an abrupt stop at the end of a corridor. In front of them hung a portrait of a very fat lady in a pink dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cosy, round chamber full of overstuffed armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. Evan squeezed Lucy's hand before trailing after Seamus.

At the top of a spiral staircase they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with red velvet curtains. Their trunks had been brought up, as Evan reported while hanging upside down off the side of his bed to peer beneath it.

Too tired to talk much they pulled on pyjamas and fell into bed.

"Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to nobody in particular through the curtains.

Evan turned over and fell asleep instantly.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own nothing, she owns everything

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, she owns everything. You know who I mean!_

As the sun peered above the horizon the next morning, it threw surprised yellow rays onto the rosy cheeks of two Hogwarts first-years in their black uniforms, sprawled on the smooth, green lawn outside the castle, eating buttered bread and sausages from the kitchen.

"Technically," said Lucy, "I don't really think we were meant to do that."

"Technically," said Evan, "we're only supposed to not be out of bed at night. Nobody said anything about first thing in the morning.

"True," Lucy replied, swallowing the last of her breakfast. "Do classes start right away?"

"Yes. We have to go up to the Great Hall to get our timetables later. We should probably bag some morning tea while we're at it."

"Mmm," Lucy agreed. There was a little silence, before she added, "Evan?"

"Yes?"

"What are we going to do during flying lessons?"

"Fly, I suppose."

"I mean, we already know how…don't we?"

"I wouldn't worry about it."

"No?"

"No. Madam Hooch will find something we're doing wrong."

"Oh. That's good to know."

"It is, isn't it?"

"That sun feels just nice now."

"It does.

There was a long, drowsy pause. "Do you think Hermione Granger's going to start studying for exams today, or leave it until tomorrow?  
"I think she started yesterday."

Lucy giggled. "She is a bit intense, isn't she?"

"Just a little."

"Brainy, though…" her voice trailed off.

"Not as bright as you, Luce. Not as bright as you."

In spite of their dawn picnic, they were still at the Gryffindor table before many of their housemates. They shoved several apples into their bags for later, and then waited for McGonagall to hand out their timetables.

Ron Weasley was talking Quidditch with Seamus, and was getting so excited he salted his toast and jam. Farther up the table, Hermione Granger sat alone, nose buried in a book.

"I really admire her sociable nature," Evan remarked, reaching for some mandarins.

"Hmm. I know. She's really going out of her way to make friends."

She watched as her friend tossed the fruits into the air, juggling about six of them with fluid grace.

"Mr Snape, kindly abstain from playing with your food," came Professor McGonagall's icy voice.

Evan turned and grinned winningly, but neither his hands nor the mandarins stopped moving.

McGonagall, now with a clear view, looked interested in spite of herself. "Is that a charm?"

"Nope. Dad taught me."

"He what?"

"Dad taught me."

"Who taught him?" Lucy asked. "I didn't know Sev could juggle."

"He taught himself," Evan replied, suddenly stopping the rhythmic motion of his hands, and catching every single one of the fruits as they fell. "And yes, he can."

Lucy shrugged. "He never seemed the type," she remarked.

Professor McGonagll looked like she agreed, but refrained from commenting. "Do you ever drop any?"

"I haven't for ages. But when I was learning, I did, yes."

He set the citrus back in their bowl, and took his timetable from his teacher's hand. "Thanks."

McGonagall nodded, and continued along the table thoughtfully.

Lucy glanced at the sheet of parchment. "Trasfigurations with McGonagall, then Charms with Ravenclaw," she read. "Professor Flitwick teaches that."

"I know," said Evan. "I think it's making things fly first, but we probably won't be trying it for a few days."

"I can do that," Lucy replied, sounding relieved. She produced her wand with a flourish and moved it through the air – swish, flick! "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

The goblet on the table she was aiming at lifted about two feet off the surface and hovered there.

"Nice," said Evan approvingly. "But it's transfigurations first." He lifted his own wand, but Lucy grabbed his hand. "I don't think the House Elves will be happy about the cups flying out the window, Evan."

"I was going to do a banana. But I suppose you're right." He re-pocketed his wand. "Come on, Lucy, let's go."

They soon discovered their parents hadn't been exaggerating when they mentioned it might be quite difficult to find their way around the castle. There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts, and some of them didn't go where you'd expect them to.

"I'm going to write to Dad," Evan grumbled, glaring daggers at a suit of armour he was quite certain had been two corridors away a few minutes ago. "And ask him to make me a finder-arrow."

"Or an enchanted ball of string," Lucy offered. "Um…left, left or left right?"

"Wouldn't have a clue."

"Pity you didn't ask your Dad before we left."

"Yes…hang on," his verdant eyes had narrowed thoughtfully. "I have a better idea." He was staring at Socrates and Ptolemy. "I don't suppose _you _two have any idea how to get to charms?"

The cats gazed at each other with matching yellow eyes, then looked back to their humans. And turning their backs they set off at a trot in the opposite direction.  
"Shall we?"

"Why not?" Lucy replied.

They retraced many of the steps they taken thus far, along some corridors they had not yet visited and soon found themselves outside their first-year Transfigurations class with Ravenclaw, students still arriving in little groups, some of them seeming to have stumbled upon the room completely by accident.

"Thank you," Evan murmured to their four-footed friends as they hurried inside.

"How on earth did they…"

"Cats are like that."

"Oh."

Professor McGonagall looked sternly at the class over her glasses and gave them a talking-to.

"Transfigurations is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anybody messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she turned her desk into a pig and back again. The class murmured, impressed, and clearly couldn't wait to get started, but as Evan and Lucy suspected, it would be a long time before they were turning bits of furniture into animals. After copying down a shaft of notes, she gave them each a matchstick and told them to try turning it into a needle.

Evan, who had admittedly been focusing on the more interesting aspects of the art, stared at his matchstick with a little crease between his eyebrows that reminded McGonagall a lot of his father whenever he had been confronted with something his sharp mind didn't instantly grasp.

Towards the end of the class she checked their progress. Hermione Granger had managed to make her matchstick all shiny and pointy. Lucy had managed a perfect dress-making pin. Evan was still frowning at the matchstick as though transfixed or Petrified.

"Mr. Snape?" she asked quietly. "Are you all right?"

"Huh?" He blinked, and looked up at her with those vivid eyes. There was an expression in them she couldn't quite decipher, so brief was it in duration before he banished it. "Oh…fine thank you."

And she couldn't quite bring herself to pursue the matter, just shooting him a troubled look. "All right, then…Evan. But remember I'm your head of house, and if you ever want to talk…"

"No, thanks."

By the time she dismissed the class, Evan's matchstick remained untouched on his desk.

She stood and gazed at it the same way he had, for a long time afterwards.

Outside the classroom, Lucy grabbed her friend's sleeve and dragged him through a door she selected completely at random.

"All right, Evan," she said, shutting the door behind them. They were alone in the old and empty classroom with its desks drawn up along the walls, and a solitary stick of chalk lay in the middle of the dusty floor. "What happened?"

He dropped his act, and she was surprised to see tears forming in the bottom of his eyes. "I…I just don't know, Lucy," he whispered. "Mum and Dad taught me those spells right after I got my wand, just playing around, you know? I've never…I haven't done – many by myself, you know, without copying them. And with that needle – and I just started thinking about how everybody thinks I'm going to be special, because Dad's such a great wizard, and Mum was such a brilliant student…"

"Evan," Lucy interrupted firmly, and reached out one slim hand towards him. "You are special. You. It doesn't matter one tiny little bit to me if you never manage to turn that bloody matchstick into a needle the whole time you're at Hogwarts."

"I probably _won't_," said Evan glumly.  
"Okay," said Lucy with a shrug. "You can give that a miss. And nobody will ever know you're the only Head Boy in Hogwarts history who'll have trouble stocking his sewing kit."

"I don't have a sewing kit, Lucy."

"Just as well."

He gazed into those sapphire eyes, drawing strength from them the same way his father, in years long past, had gazed into emerald ones startlingly like his own. "You're amazing," he whispered in awe. "You're incredible. You're…too good to be true."

"I'm right here, Evan," she grinned. "You know that. And I know I'll always have you."

"Always," he agreed.  
"Always and forever."

Finally he reached out to meet her hand with his, halfway between them.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Still no Jo, alas

_Disclaimer: Still no Jo, alas!_

_Author's Note: By the way, I'm sorry there are no ghosts in my story, for those of you who liked them, but to me ghosts are much more serious than most of those (Grey Lady and Bloody Baron excepted) J.K. Rowling used._

There was certainly a lot more to magic than anybody watching Severus and Lily Snape demonstrate the basics would have suspected.

They had to study the movement of the planets late on Wednesday nights, through their telescopes in the astronomy tower. Then there was History of Magic, where Evan and Hermione Granger both relaxed, finally finding a use for all the books they had devoured before arriving at school.

Professor Flitwick, the charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who relied on a stack of thick books to see over his desk, and he insisted on shaking Evan's hand the first lesson, and telling him how he, Flitwick, had taught Severus Snape during his seven years at Hogwarts, and how proud he was to have done so.

Evan forced a smile, and then threatened to jinx Lucy for giggling when Flitwick had scurried off, but she just tugged playfully at his sleeve and pulled him to a desk beside Hermione Granger.

The Herbology lessons were with Hufflepuff, taught by the short and round Professor Sprout, three times a week in the greenhouses behind the castle. It was a very relaxed class, and both Evan and Lucy discovered an affinity for the rich, black moist soil and the pungent smell of things living and growing.

Neville, though, thought they were boring, and much preferred Transfigurations. His feelings seemed to be shared by Hermione, who was almost in tears over the way none of her plants would do what it said they were meant to in the textbook.

Their second lesson with McGonagall, Evan startled the witch by marching straight up to her desk where the matchsticks were, and stalking off with one before she could say a word. At his desk, he sat down and glared at it for a solid thirty seconds, then pointed his wand and turned it into a needle and back again.

She would have denied it, but it took all of the witch's self-control not to applaud. The rest of the class didn't bother exercising such restraint though, and one or two of them whistled as they clapped.

Evan stood up and bowed theatrically, making everybody laugh, especially Lucy, who pulled him back into his seat by his robe sleeve

McGonagall smiled faintly. Evan Snape had certainly found his feet. It would only be up and up from here. She could feel it.

It wasn't until breakfast on Friday that Evan and Lucy managed to get anywhere without help from their cats, who followed them to the Great Hall from Gryffindor Tower that morning for the first time that week, rather than the other way around, bolting down a plate of bacon before disappearing.

"What's first?" Lucy asked, liberally flooding her porridge with cream and treacle.

"Double potions with Slytherin," Evan replied, pausing over a half-buttered slab of bread to stare at her. "A little porridge with your syrup, Lucy?"

"I'm making up for all those rotten breakfasts without anything on the bloody stuff," the girl replied.

"You'll rot your teeth," said Hermione Granger bossily.

They had taken to sitting together at meals and in all their classes, and sometimes working together, especially in History of Magic, where Evan couldn't stop Lucy's eyes from glazing over as soon as the teacher began to speak.

That didn't mean she was always good company, however.

Lucy dragged her sticky spoon through the bowlful and gaped wide at the brown-haired girl. "See, no fillings?"

"Put some porridge in your gob, Luce, then keep it shut," Evan advised, finishing with the butter and adding liberal amounts of jam to his bread. "How are you adjusting to being a witch, Hermione? I've been meaning to ask."

She hesitated, then shrugged and smiled shyly. "It's all right. It's just getting used to thing happening that don't happen back home."

"I know, grinned Evan."

"Yes. Three of his Grandparents are muggles," added Lucy, swallowing and waving her spoon at Hermione. "You should see them jump whenever his parents do any magic around them."

Hermione smiled. "Am I…am I ever going to fit in here?" she asked softly, staring at her scrambled eggs.

"Sure you will," Evan replied warmly. "Mum did. In fact, she once told me she almost forgot completely about the muggle world, because she and her sister – Aunt Petunia, Neville's mother…"

"Married Frank Longbottom in the end, he's an Auror," Lucy interjected.

"She and her sister were drifting apart," Evan continued.

"I wish I had a sister," Hermione smiled. "Why were they…"

"Petunia was jealous, because mum was different and…special, maybe? I don't really know, but Mum said Dad talked her into giving Petunia another chance, and they made up and Petunia met Frank through Dad – he was a friend of Dad's, sort of. He was Head-boy the year before him."

"And the rest is history," Lucy finished. "Eat your breakfast you two, or we'll be late for Potions."

"I'll have mine on the run," Evan decided, stacking the slabs of bread he had prepared onto his other hand. "Since we seem to be on a roll, lets see if we can find Potions without the cats…where have they gone, anyway?"

"Beats me. Coming, Hermione?"

The idea of attempting to find her way down to the dungeons, where Potions classes were held, all alone obviously didn't appeal to the other girl, so after a brief hesitation she bolted the rest of her breakfast and they all trooped out together.

Ptolemy rejoined them a few minutes later, halfway down one of the dark stone stairways that led to their dungeon classroom. Socrates, Lucy surmised, had returned to Gryffindor Tower to doze on her soft red eiderdown.

Evan stared hard at both of them. "I'm not imagining things, am I?"

"I don't think so," Lucy replied seriously.

"Ptolemy really is…wet, isn't he?"

"I'll check." Lucy gingerly bent down and touched the dripping fur of the marmalade cat. "Yes. He's wet. Soaking, actually."

"What happened? Did you get sick of licking yourself and try to take a bath?"

The tomcat gave him a haughty and rather disgruntled look.

Evan pulled out his wand and cast a drying charm. A much happier Ptolemy then accompanied the three young sorcerers to the Potions corridor.

Evan froze suddenly as they passed a wooden door with a brass knob. "What was that?"

"What was _what_?" Lucy wanted to know, But Evan was already pulling the door open, wand ready. "That noise."

"Isn't that the boys' bathroom?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, Evan," chimed Lucy. "If there are strange noises coming from the boys' toilets, I'm not really sure I want to know what they're coming from."

Ignoring them both, Evan let the door swing shut behind him.

"He's going to make a smashing prefect someday," Lucy observed, sighing, folding her arms and leaning against the cold, stone wall to wait.

The scrubbed interior of the downstairs bathroom was silent. Only one cubicle was occupied. Evan hesitated, wondering whether to leave, when he heard the sound again: a sickly, gurgling, belching sort of sound.

Coming from the occupied cubicle.

He tapped on the door. "Are you all right in there?"

There was silence for a moment, then a weak voice that sounded vaguely familiar said, "Go away."

Evan's concern grew. Whoever was in there sounded like they'd be better off in the hospital wing.

"Either you tell me what's wrong," he said, "Or I'm coming in."

"I said…go away!"

"_Allohomora,_" Evan muttered, and the cubical door swung open. A second later a furious face appeared. The last person Evan had expected to see.

Draco Malfoy.

His eyes were watering, and there was strange-looking green slime streaked down the front of his mouth.

"What do you want?"

Evan opened his mouth, but Draco suddenly went very pale and whirled around again. The other boy watched in astonishment as several huge slugs dribbled out of his mouth and landed with a splash in the toilet.

"What happened," Evan asked anxiously, stepping forward and, because he didn't know what else to do right then, rubbed the young Slytherin's back soothingly.

"Weasleys," Draco mumbled. "I ran into them on my way to breakfast just now."

"I suppose they thought it was funny. Hold on, I think I know this curse. It's a hard one to work, but…"

There was a loud hammering at the door. "What's going on in there?" Lucy demanded.

"We're going to be late," Hermione added.

"Slug jinx," Evan called back. "Be with you in a tick."

"Oh dear," he heard Hermione say anxiously, her voice muffled through the door. Then, a little louder, "I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop, Evan!"

Beside him, Draco groaned pathetically.

"Bollocks," said Evan. "Keep still, Malfoy."

He pointed his wand directly at Draco's throat, thought for a second, then said something very quietly.

Draco hiccoughed, and touched his mouth. Nothing.

"It's stopped?" said Evan.

"I think so." The Slytherin smiled gratefully, and Evan helped him up. "Come on," he offered, let's go to class…oh wait, you haven't had breakfast yet, have you?"

"I'm not hungry any more."

"No, I don't suppose you are," Evan grinned. "Never mind, I'm sure you'll feel better soon."

He pushed open the door and ushered the flaxen-haired boy out into the corridor.

Lucy and Hermione looked as surprised as Evan had felt a few minutes ago as the Slytherin boy joined them.

"You fixed him?" Lucy asked.

"I think so."

"Where did you learn that?" Hermone demanded, as though his knowing something she didn't was a personal affront.

"I read it in one of Dad's books ages ago."

"Oh," said Hermione. "Can I borrow it?"

"If you can smuggle it out of our house under Dad's eagle eyes. Might be easier if you come stay in the holidays."

She smiled at him. "I'd like that."

Evan turned his attention back to Draco, who was wiping at his mouth with his sleeve, but had a bit more colour in his face than a moment ago.

"Here," offered Evan, digging in one of his pockets for a clean handkerchief. "Don't get your shirt all dirty."

Draco accepted it meekly and scrubbed his face.

"What were the Weasleys doing down here anyway?" Evan asked, frowning. "That's what I don't get. They should be in Gryffindor tower, or at breakfast. We've got potions first, so they couldn't be going to class."

Draco gave a little smile. "I think they had just finished detention," he confided.

"The Weasleys?" echoed Lucy. "Why did they hex you?"

Draco mumbled something inaudible.

"Sorry?"

"I put the leg-lock jinx on one of them. I'm not sure which."

"Why?"

"They were…they were saying stuff about my father, all right? They were saying all this stuff about my father, and I lost it and I dumbly threw a jinx at one of them, so they hexed me."

"All right, simmer down," Lucy advised. "What about your Dad?"

"He's in Azkaban," Draco muttered, only now he was talking straight to Evan, and his grey eyes were blazing. "_Your_ father put him in Azkaban."

Evan stopped walking and glared right back. "Only because your father tried to kill my Mum and me, and then him. I remember that night, Malfoy. I remember him, and I remember that wand pointing right at me, and I remember him starting to say, "_Avada ke…_"

"Not fighting, are we boys?" said a voice behind them.

They jumped and turned. It was one of the teachers who had been staring at Evan that first night; the one Ptolemy had been growling at. Luckily, Ptolemy had disappeared again, as he didn't particularly feel like explaining to Professor Lupin why a large ginger tom was attempting to shred his ankles, which tended to happen when Ptlolemy didn't like somebody.

Somebody like Lucius Malfoy.

That was another thing he had remembered about that night; his little kitten a hissing golden ball of fury glaring daggers at the looming Death-eater, placing his tiny frame directly between Evan and the wand.

Then his father was there – he had apparated directly into the living room, and that awful curse had been cut off as Lucius Malfoy was blasted into the wall and crashed unconscious to the floor.

He shook his head to clear it. "No, Professor," he said.

"Well, come on then. I'm going to start class in a few minutes."

Hermione jumped and scurried off after their teacher, Lucy just behind her. Evan shrugged and began to follow, then realised Draco was standing very still, staring at the wall.

"Malfoy?"

"I…I didn't know that," he mumbled. "My mum, she never talks about him, you know. I've only got one photo. And that horrible bit in the Daily Prophet about his…his trial." He looked up and met Evan's gaze directly. "I sometimes wonder how different everything would be if he was still around, and – you know – if he hadn't been a…"

"But he was," Evan replied seriously. "You're not your father, Malfoy. None of us are. Hermione's parents aren't even magical, Lucy's father is a loser and everybody knows it. My father's famous, and everybody expects me to…I dunno. Expects me to have been born knowing everything he knows. Sometimes even when I can do something, I can't because I think about it too much."

"Like the needle?" Draco had started walking again, and Evan walked with him.

"Shut up about the needle, for Merlin's sake. The next person who brings that up, I'll hex them silly."

They separated at the classroom door, as Slytherins and Gryffindors were firmly divided regarding seating arrangements.

Professor Lupin was just finishing flicking through his notes as Draco and Evan found seats.

He took the roll, pausing momentarily at Evan's name and searching the room with his gaze until he located the source of Evan's "here!". Then, surprisingly, he smiled.

"Right," he said when he had struck off "Blaise Zabini", and put his quill away. "Welcome to potions class. I'm afraid there isn't much use for wands in here, but you can still get some spectacular results with a little hard-work. It can be a phenomenally difficult area of study, but don't worry: it's easy to pass exams in, because all you have to do is follow the instructions. Just take it slow and careful and you'll be fine."

He made them copy down conscientious notes regarding safety practice from the board, then announced they could get out their cauldron and their supplies and pair up. They would start with a simple potion to cure warts.

Evan, to his surprise, soon found he had a talent for potions. He kept glancing around as he and Lucy worked, and wondered how anybody could make as many mistakes as his classmates. Professor Lupin was running from couple to couple desperately trying to put things right, or – occasionally – stop cauldrons exploding.

Evan frowned at the porcupine quills he was grating. How difficult, really, were the instructions to follow? Sprinkling just the right amount in, he glanced over at Draco, meeting the boy's gaze. He was adding his porcupine quills, too, and he grinned, then grimaced slightly and indicated his partner – a thick, heavyset boy with a gormless face – with a nod of the head.

Evan bit his lip to keep from laughing and quickly looked away. Hermione Granger, working with Ronald Weasley, was too busy keeping the freckled boy from throwing unexpected ingredients into the cauldron to look at Evan. Maybe they could all swap partners next time. Were Gryffindors even allowed to work with Slytherins? Maybe he'd better check with McGonagall…although she'd probably think he was being a smart-aleck.

Lupin ran past, glanced sideways at their brew, which was turning a frothing slimy green and nodded approval, "Very good," he muttered, intercepting a big Slytherin boy before he could add a whole lot of fluxweed to his mixture.

Only three potions had turned out all right, bottled and awaiting inspection, when the bell rang at the end of class. Draco's, Hermione's and Evan and Lucy's.

They packed up quickly when Lupin – obviously relieved – dismissed the class. "What's next?" Lucy asked as they hurried out.

"Herbology. Let's go. Bye, Draco!"

Ptolemy was waiting for them at the top of the stairs. One final wave to the blonde Slytherin boy and they parted company.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks a bundle for all those reviews

_Thanks a bundle for all those reviews! I've almost abandoned this story once or twice, I have to admit, but your readership keeps me going! Still not Jo's._

The next day, being a Saturday, Evan was first up in his dorm. Possibly, this had something to do with the fact that Ptolemy jumped up onto his chest and began walking back and forth with his claws out. Possibly it had something to do with the fact that he had just – sweating all over – escaped from a rather alarming dream involving a werewolf and a man in a purple cloak. He seemed to be having that nightmare quite a lot lately.

After looking around carefully to make sure the werewolf really was just a dream, he sat up. Ptolemy slid back onto his lap, claws still out. "Ouch!" said Evan, unhooking his pet. "Wretched animal."

Ptolemy gazed back at him, entirely unimpressed.

"All right, all right." He glanced at his watch. Too early for the Great Hall. "Kitchens. Breakfast. Got it."

He pushed Ptolemy off his lap and climbed out of bed, pausing only to gaze at the curtained beds of his slumbering room-mates before heading to the showers, resisting the temptation to put a hair-loss jinx on Ron Weasley. The boy couldn't help being related to Laurel and Hardy in the other room.

Down in the kitchen, through the secret door behind the painting of the fruit bowl his mother had told him about, the House-elves were almost half-way through cooking the great mountains of eggs, sausages, bacon and toast that were to find their way upstairs shortly, but two of them were happy to stop for a minute when Evan wandered in. He was glad Socrates wasn't here. Ptolemy did no more than sit regally on the table directly below Gryffindor House's table in the Great Hall upstairs, surveying the proceedings coolly, but he doubted Socrates would be able to conduct himself with similar dignity. The grey cat tended to get very excited at the sight of anything small with disproportionately large ears.

He ate his bacon and tomato sandwich sitting at the spot he probably would have been sitting had he been upstairs. Ptolemy eventually vacated the table in favour of a dish of kippers, and a saucer of milk Evan filled from his own glass. "Not too much," he said sternly as he poured. "It's not good for cats."

Ptolemy gave him a look as if to say, "It is for _this _cat."

The House-elves, now piling breakfast for the rest of the school on the tables, were obviously relieved that the giant cat had abandoned his perch. Evan idly wondered what would happen if they sent Ptolemy up with the sausages.

He handed back his dishes and hopped off his chair. The House-elves bowed him out of the room, pressing cream cakes upon him as he left.

People were just starting to drift into the Great Hall for their own breakfasts, and as he headed outside, he passed Draco Malfoy and a couple of his sullen-looking house-mates. They all had their wands out, and he stopped to listen.

"Take it back, Nott. Now!"

"Why d'you care so much, Malfoy?" sniggered the brown-haired boy on the right.

"Never thought you'd fancy a filthy little Mudblood," the other – a heavyset boy who looked as though he had some Troll in him – agreed with a high-pitched giggle.

"_Scourgefy!_" cried Evan, and Draco jumped as the jinx shot past his ear. "Wash your mouth out."

Draco turned around, glanced quizzically at the Gryffindor, then looked back at his companions and started sniggering. Both of them were foaming and soaping at the mouth. They looked furious.

"C'mon, Draco," said Evan, putting his wand away again. "Let's leave them to it."

"But…"

"It'll wear off in a few minutes."

"That's what I'm worried about," Draco muttered. "Any way we can make it permanent?"

"I'll work on it. Here. Have a cream bun. Or two, or three."

"I can't eat cream buns for breakfast."

"Sure you can."

Draco hesitated. _Should I or shouldn't I? _he wondered. _Too late, I did._

Cream and raspberry jam spurted out the end of his first bun, liberally coating his fingers and chin.

"Want the other two?"

Draco mumbled something inaudible and held out his hand, nodding, and Evan carefully transferred them from his pocket.

"Good?"

Nod.

"Come on outside, then. Ever played Muggle football?"

He shook his head, fixing curious eyes on his friend's face.

"You're in for a treat, then. I'll teach you. Let's go."

The two boys walked out through the front doors together in perfect harmony, out into the sunshine, leaving behind them the other two boys, still spluttering out soapsuds.


	12. Chapter 12

You're spoilt, you are

_You're spoilt, you are! Here's another chapter. Everybody and everything you recognize is a mutated form of JK's stuff. But you know that. I just don't want to get sued!_

Lucy also woke to a cat on her stomach, but Socrates was fast asleep. He barely stirred as she shoved him off, gathered her clothes and bolted for the shower. When she had finished her ablutions and emerged into the common room, nobody except Hermione was there. Her brown-haired companion was apparently deeply engrossed in a book, only glancing up when Lucy tapped her on the shoulder. "Hallo."

"Yeah, hello, 'Mione. Have you seen Evan?"

"I heard Ron say he was already gone when they woke up."

Lucy gave her a look of mock-horror. "What? Ron Weasley got out of bed before me?"

Hermione just grinned and shrugged before turning her eyes back to the pages.

The other girl watched her for a minute, then firmly reached out and prised the book from her fingers.

"Wha…"

"Breakfast," said Lucy, slowly and clearly. "Have. You. Had. Breakfast?"

"Err…no," said Hermione.

Lucy threw the heavy tome aside. "Well then," she remarked brightly. "Let's go!"

She marched Hermione out of the common room.

There was a miniature football match in progress on the lawn in front of the castle. Two jackets marked a wide goal, in front of which Evan was standing, grinning. Justin Finch-Fletchley, Dean Thomas and Neville were scattered in a rough circle, smirking in a very knowing sort of way, around Draco, who was gazing intently at a black and white muggle football immediately in front of him. As the girls halted next to Ptolemy's dozing form to watch, he made a running kick at it. It whacked into Evan's chest, as the black-haired boy suddenly moved to where he hadn't been a second ago. "Nice shot."

"Better save," Draco grinned.

"I've been practicing for longer." Suddenly, his eyes lit up. "Lucy!" He threw her the ball. "'Bout time you woke up."

She caught it, dropped it onto the grass in front of her and aimed a swift kick. "I like to take my time on my weekends."

Evan trapped it under one foot and grinned. "Must be something in the air here. You were always up at the crack of dawn back home."

"That's because I have to get out of the house before Mum and Dad wake up or I wind up eating cold porridge with them."

"So you only love me for my larder?"

"That's right. If your mum wasn't such a great cook I wouldn't give you the time of day."

"I'm glad we cleared that up."

He gave the ball back to Dean Thomas, who thanked him for not being another Qudditch hooligan. He, Justin and Neville began talking Hotspurs and Man-U, and Seamus rolled his eyes and left to find Ron Weasley. Evan led his friends towards the lake and dropped down in the shade of a leafy tree.

"Lucy," said Draco suddenly. "What _do_ your parents do?"

She made a face. "Mum works for his dad," she replied, nodding at Evan. "As a secretary. Dad, well…he's tried everything. Wanted to be an Auror, and that didn't work out. Wanted to play Quidditch for England, and that definitely didn't work out." She paused. "What about your mum? Does she work?"

Draco shrugged. "She does embroidery…bit of dress-making. Mostly I think we live off the family money…and I think she has a friend from school who helps her out. I think it's a bloke, but I've never met him."

"Think there's some funny business going on at yours?" Evan grinned lazily.

Draco's face was comical. "Gross! That's my _mum!" _

"Sorry," he murmured.

"Your turn, Evan," Draco continued, poking the dark-haired boy with his foot. "Everybody knows about…about your Dad. What does your _mum_ do?"

Evan's green eyes flickered left and right, and he carefully touched his lips with the tip of his tongue. "She's an Unspeakable," he said finally. "But we're not supposed to talk about it. She's quite important there, you see. So don't say anything. All right?"

They nodded solemnly. "Wow," murmured Draco. "Your family is…"

"Way cool?" Lucy suggested.

"What's an Unspeakable?" Hermione blurted, then looked mortified that she had revealed a gap in her knowledge.

Evan took her hand. "Hermione, relaxing again. I am – we all are – truly touched that you trust us enough to stay here and admit that there are things in heaven and earth not found within your philosophy."

"Shakespeare," grinned Hermione. "Hamlet. Shut up and answer the question."

"Unspeakables," Draco said. "Department of Mysteries."

"Top secret," Lucy added. "Nobody really knows what they get up to, not even their families. You can bet I would have had it out of Evan by now if he did know."

"She uses the coaxing voice," Evan explained. "I find it very hard to refuse her anything when she uses the coaxing voice.


	13. Chapter 13

Once again, thanks to J

_Once again, thanks to J.K Rowling for her characters. Which I'm having a lot of fun with. Without her permission (but everybody else is doing it…)_

_Sorry for the long wait, guys! Exam time and all that. Just one more to go, though!_

The morning wore on. Draco fell into a light doze. He was woken at lunch time by a shriek from Hermione, and sat up to see her hanging suspended in the air, upside down, right next to him. He suddenly turned bright pink as he realised she had been wearing a skirt, which had now fallen over her head, displaying pretty pink underpants to the world in general.

Scrambling to his feet, he reached for his wand.

"_Expelliarmis_!" somebody shouted, and it flew out of his hand.

_Bugger, damn and shit_. It was the two housemates Evan had spring-cleaned, and three older boys.

He froze, not really sure what to do.

"Not so tough without your little friend, are you?" sneered one of the Slytherins.

"Eat Dragon dung," Draco spat back. "Five against two first years, is it? That's real tough."

"_Silencio_!" bellowed Marcus Flint furiously.

"_Stupify!_" cried another voice, and the seventh-year's bulky frame crashed to the ground. "_Stupify_! _Stupefy_!"

The spells were well-aimed, and it seemed as though none of the boys had the reflexes to block the unexpected ambush. Gormlessly, they crumpled, one after the other.

"_Liberacorpus_!" the voice cried then

"_Sonorous_!" chirped a second voice at almost the same time, this one a girl's. _Lucy! And Evan!_

Hermione crashed unceremoniously to the ground, and furiously struggled into a more dignified position.

"_Accio_ Draco and Hermione's wands!" Evan commanded fiercely, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two sticks of wood shoot through the air towards…ah! There they were! Evan and Lucy emerged from behind a thick bush some distance away, and Evan caught the wands with his free hand. He tossed them back to their owners.

Draco stabbed it viciously at the two remaining boys. "_Petrificus totalis_!" He hadn't wasted his time before starting at Hogwarts. The spell hit both targets at once, and they fell back, stiff as twin planks.

Lucy was helping a miserable-looking Hermione off the ground, and murmuring soothing words.

"What do we do with this bunch of clowns?" Draco wanted to know, frowning as he kicked Marcus Flint's unconscious body.

"Just leave them," Evan advised. "They'll wake up soon. We're not powerful enough for it to hold them for long."

"Yes," Lucy agreed, looking down at the boys as though they were something unpleasant she had just discovered on the bottom of her shoe. "Leave them here and let's go to lunch."

"How did you know to come?" Hermione asked as they trooped back to the castle together. "I mean, you must have both gone when Draco and I fell asleep. What made you come back?"

"He did," Evan replied cheerfully, nodding at Ptolemy, who was leading the way – bottle brush tail sticking straight out behind him. "He likes you, mate. You're lucky."

Ptolemy glanced askance over his shoulder, as if the idea of him liking anybody was completely unthinkable, but then he was distracted by a butterfly the size of a swallow somebody had apparently "_Engorgio_-ed", and romped off in pursuit.

"It's nice to see he can actually act like a cat occasionally," Evan remarked approvingly as they reached the stairs.

"Why did you two go off when we fell asleep?" Draco demanded suddenly, sounding a little put out. "You could have warned us."

"We didn't want to wake you."

"But where did you go?"

Evan smiled mysteriously. "Let's just say I got an owl from Mum and Dad." He produced a small scroll of parchment and waved it. "Oh, there's some of Mum's chocolate fudge, too, if you're interested."

"But…"

"Be patient, you'll see," Lucy nodded, looking angelically innocent. Then her face broke into an enormous grin. "We're bloody brilliant! Evan, I could hug your dad!" She gave a happy little skip, and danced into the Great Hall humming something by the Beach Street boys, the others trailing along behind.

"Sit with us, again, Draco?" Evan asked. "And…you can let Hermione's hand go, now. I don't think she's about to go flying off again any time soon."

Draco looked down at his fingers, which were tightly twined with Hermione's, and blushed, letting go quickly and sitting down with a bump. "Yeah," he said. "Okay. I don't think I'll be particularly welcome in Slytherin after word gets out. It might be wise to sleep in the corridor from now on."

"We'll see if we can find the room of Requirement," Evan said reassuringly. "And if not, we'll smuggle you into Gryffindor tower and you can sleep on one of the couches."

"Sounds good," Draco grinned, and reached for a fat ham sandwich.

Suddenly the door burst open and the Weasley twins ran in, faces pale and wearing a haunted expression. They were gabbling so fast that nobody at the Gryffindor table could understand them at first, but then…

A disembodied hand was scuttling into the Great Hall, walking on its long fingers, nails clicking on the stone.

A deathly hush, the silence of hundreds of breaths being held, descended. All eyes were on the object. It gave a little spring, and was airborne, hovering for a second behind either Fred or George's head.

"What?" he gulped, as all gazes swivelled.

The hand tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped and turned, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

The hand tapped him on the other shoulder. He jumped and turned again.

The hand stuck two fingers in a V sign behind his head. A few people started to laugh. This time he managed to whirl around fast enough. "Gah!" He jumped backwards, crashed into the table, and knocked a bowl of apples clean over. "It's bloody flying!" he screamed. "Get it!"

His brother grabbed a plate from the table and brandished it, but the hand slipped underneath as he took a swipe and tickled him on the chin. He stumbled backwards, trod on Hermione's foot and fell over.

The hand grabbed him by the collar and lifted him smoothly and steadily into the air, hooked his jersey on an old torch bracket on the wall, waved to the rest of the students and then, as McGonagall came bustling towards the little scene, gave them the thumbs up and disappeared in a burst of blue sparks.

"I told you," whispered Lucy. "Genius. Pure genius."


	14. Chapter 14

See how good I am

_See how good I am? Making up for lost time. Still no Jo._

The twins got their revenge the following day.

"What happened?" Lucy asked, when Evan and Draco joined them under their tree outside, some time after lunch. Evan looked grumpy again, and Draco was rather paler than usual. "And where have you been?"

"Infirmary," the black-haired boy muttered darkly.

"What?" Lucy sat up properly and blinked.

"Why?" Hermione added, frowning.

"We'd been playing footy, and we were coming in for lunch…" Evan began with a sigh, shoulders slumping.

"And we walked through a door…" Draco continued.

"As you do…" Evan put in dryly, flopping onto the grass beside Hermione. He reached into his pockets and produced some chicken sandwiches, slightly squashed, from a brown paper bag. He remained pointedly silent as he divided them with Draco.

"Well?" Lucy pressed, after waiting while the boys sorted their food out. "What happened when you walked through the door. As you do?"

"Imagine our surprise to find a bucket balanced on top…"

"Charmed to fall on _us…_"

"And only us, apparently, because Lee Jordan went through just before we did."

"It wasn't water, though. Oh no!"

"Full to the brim with some kind of horrible potion," Evan agreed. "Of course, I didn't notice right away that Draco had broken out all over in boils…"

"He was kind of busy."

"Walked right into it."

Lucy leaned forward and scratched Ptolemy's head. The great orange beast began to purr, almost loud enough to drown out conversation. "Walked right into what?"

Evan had turned pink, and he glared at his plate for a while before finally muttering something inaudible.  
"Pardon?" said Hermione.

Evan sighed. "I said, I walked right into an ambush. They put a _Sillencio _jinx on me and a bloody _Tarantallegra _as well."

Lucy frowned. "Doesn't Ptolemy usually warn you about stuff like that?"

"He did start growling," Evan admitted. "But I was talking, and, uh…not really paying much attention."

"So what…happened?"

Evan stared at his sandwich, and Lucy detected a small smile. "Dad always told me the two most important things to learn at Hogwarts, especially if you make enemies, are wandlessly summoning your wand and non-verbally removing _silencio._"

Lucy thought about that for a second, then grinned. "That makes sense."

Evan nodded fervently. "Hard to believe, isn't it? I can hardly turn a bloody needle into a matchstick, but I can honestly say I can do both wandless and non-verbal magic!"

"Just those two spells?"

"Just those two spells," Evan laughed. "Anyway, I took the other jinx off me so I could stop prancing around like a prize ninny, then I cleared up the potion – "

"Magically? Is that the spell your mum used that time we spilled lemonade all over the…"

"Yes. That's the one. And please, don't talk about that!"

"Sorry," she murmured.

"So, um…yeah. Then I dragged Draco up to the infirmary. We've only just finished in there, and lunch was obviously over, so I bolted down to the kitchen for these." He waved the sandwich at Lucy and took an enormous bite.

"Are you all right, now?" Hermione asked kindly, concern evident in her voice.

"Yes, thank-you," Draco mumbled, staring embarrassedly at what was left of his meal.

"Evan?" Lucy prompted. "Are _you_ all right?"

"Mm," he mumbled thickly through the bread and chicken, then swallowed and added, "Just plotting the next step. There's no way I'm going to let myself be out-pranked by those couple of amateurs."

"Oh dear," sighed Hermione. "Don't you think somebody ought to go to the teachers? I mean, somebody could have really been hurt!"

"That would be chicken," Evan said flatly.

"The lines of battle really have been drawn, haven't they?" Lucy added, absently pulling the petals from a small daisy, her eyes gazing at something far-off and apparently invisible.

"Too right," Draco growled.

"Oh well," she shrugged. "Let's not think about the gruesome twosome. Flying lessons next week, with Slytherin." She smiled, closed her brilliant eyes and raised her face to the sky. "I love flying."


	15. Chapter 15

Madam Hooch was a spry, wiry witch with yellow eyes like a hawk's

_Running out of ways to say this is Rowling's…_

Madam Hooch was a spry, wiry witch with yellow eyes like a hawk's. She lined them all up next to a broomstick and gave them the basic drill Evan's parents had been though with him years ago.

"_Up_," Evan sighed, and the broomstick shot into his outstretched hand. He glanced at his classmates. Lucy had already mounted hers and kicked off, bobbing gently up and down. Madam Hooch, who was showing Draco how to correctly grip the handle, was glaring at Lucy in a way that suggested she was next.

Hermione had been nervous all morning. Flying was something you couldn't learn from a book, as Ron had been heard pointing out to several nearby people, while Hermione frantically flicked through "Quidditch through the Ages," apparently trying to prove him wrong.

Evan dropped his own broom back onto the grass and crossed to Hermione, showed her where to put her hands and feet, how to shift her weight, and pointed out it was a bit like riding a bicycle, and she knew how to do that, didn't she?

When, with Evan running beside her guiding the broom, Hermione swept down the lawn and soared up into the air, Draco and Lucy, who had stopped practising to watch, cheered and clapped, and Hermione squealed with pleasure.

She soared higher and higher, wind rushed past her face, and her eyes watered. She blinked furiously.

Remembering what Evan had said about descending, she tipped forward and found herself plummeting to earth. Far, far below her classmates looked tiny. Almost like pale-faced black beetles.

The ground was getting closer. Closer. All she could see was dark green grass; it filled her entire vision.

And her mind went blank. She had completely forgotten how to stop.

So she did the only sensible thing she could think of. She screwed her eyes shut and screamed.

Suddenly the front of her broomstick lifted slightly, and she began to level out. Barely a second later, a warm hand pulled one of her feet from the stirrup and she felt it brush the ground below.

Shakily she stumbled off and collapsed on the ground. Looking up, she saw Evan gripping her broomstick in one hand and making a neat landing a few yards away.

Madam Hooch was hurrying over, the rest of the class in tow. Lucy and Draco hauled Hermione to her feet and supported her between them.

"Are you all right?" Gasped the witch. "Never in my life…you could have been killed! What were you thinking? Didn't your friend tell you to stay close to the ground?"

"Yes," muttered Hermione weakly. "But…I didn't realise how high…"

Her yellow eyes softened slightly, as though she understood. "Yes," she said gruffly. "Well…_Snape_!"

The boy, who had rejoined the group and was standing behind Lucy, jumped slightly. "Uh, yes?"

She gazed at him for a long time. "Magnificent piece of flying," she said finally. "Best I've seen in a long time."

Lucy nudged Evan with her free elbow, Draco looked wistful and a bit envious, and Evan, to everybody's surprise, turned slightly pink. "Thank you."

Madam Hooch gave him a rare smile, then dismissed the class.

They slowly began to walk towards the castle door.

Suddenly, Draco froze, and before any of the others could say anything he had disappeared behind a rose bush in one of the gardens.

"Draco?" said Lucy, peering around it. "Are you all right?"

"Shh! It's them!" came the reply.

"Who…"

"Weasleys at nine o'clock," Evan murmured suddenly. "Oh, come on, Draco. Come on out from there. You're being ridiculous. There are four of us here."

"They're third years, Evan," Draco grumbled, but obligingly re-emerged.

"Which makes it fair," said Lucy. "I mean, four against two isn't very sporting, so we've got to give them a fighting chance."

The twins paused as they drew up alongside. Each was holding a Cleansweep Five and a Beater's club. "Got yourself some new friends, Malfoy?" said one of them.

"What's it to you?" the Slytherin boy muttered.

"No wonder everybody likes you so much, Draco," said Evan. "It's obviously your outgoing, affectionate nature."

Draco made a face at the dark-haired boy.

"I lost my place on the Quiddich team because of you," one of the twins said ominously. "Somebody went running to McGonagall about me 'attacking' first years."

"Well it wasn't me," said Draco hotly. "I'm not a squealer."

"You must be," said the twin.

"Your father certainly was."

"Squealed like a pig at his trial."

"Shut up!" shouted Draco. "Shut…up…about my father! I'm not him, I'm me!"

The first twin who had spoken grinned and pointed his wand at Hermione's copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages, _which was tucked under her arm.

Evan must have blinked, because the next second Hermione had shrieked and fallen over onto her bottom, Draco was trying to run backwards and tripping over his Hogwarts school cloak, and both red-haired twins were howling with laughter as the great big book flapped at him with leathery pages.

Evan's eyes darkened, suddenly almost black. Without a word, he snatched one of the bats from a gasping Weasley's grasp and stepped towards Draco and the book. One solid _whack_, and the tome went somersaulting – spine over cover - in the opposite direction. It landed almost twenty yards away looking battered and insulted.

"Look, Weasley," said Evan, handing him back the club as the older boy blinked in surprise. "Since you obviously don't take hints, let me spell it out for you. _This is war_!"

"No trouble here, is there, boys?" said a sharp voice from just behind Evan, who jumped and turned around.

It was Madam Hooch, and she was looking at them in a way that suggested it would be to the benefit of all concerned if there was, in fact, no trouble.

"That depends," muttered Evan.

"No, no!" chorused the twins angelically. "Just a little debate, eh Fred?"

"Absolutely, George."

"Hmph," said Madam Hooch. "You two watch your step, or you'll _both_ end up off the team. And don't forget, I always need students to help clean the school brooms."

From the expressions on the twins' faces, Evan guessed this wasn't the most sort-after job in the school. He watched as they hurried off, subdued.

Madam Hooch studied him for a long time. "Nice backhand," she said, finally, in a deadpan voice, and then she turned and strode off without another word.

Evan blinked, shook his head quickly to clear it, then grabbed Lucy's arm – which was the closest arm to him – and dragged her away. Lucy latched onto Hermione, who snagged Draco, and they were all relentlessly towed back into the castle. Draco tentatively managed to gather up the dozy carcass of Hermione's book as they passed.

"It was you, 'Mione, wasn't it?" he demanded. "You told McGonagall about the bucet and the ambush."

"Well," Hemione said, biting her lip. "They could have hurt you both really badly. Somebody had to stop them. Somebody had to make them stop!"

"They'll really be after you, now," Lucy observed brightly, looking for all the world as though she had been given top-box tickets to a first-class Quidditch match. "They'll prank you while you're fast asleep."

"No they won't," Evan replied, releasing his grip on her arm.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Two things, Luce. One: Dad taught me all kinds of interesting spells before I left home, just in case – he said – there were some prats around who would try to make my life miserable. And there are more ideas in his letter, besides the hand of doom. Just so long as I don't tell Mum."

"And two?"

"And two, I've got a look-out." He bent and stroked Ptolemy's head.

Lucy smiled and shook her head in mild envy. She loved Socrates, but while he was content with Gryffindor tower, his huge ginger contemporary insisted on following Evan everywhere, even sitting outside his classes where pets were banned to wait for him.

Everybody else had gotten used to it by now, and the strange sight of the first-year Gryffindor boy with the tomcat whose head was the size of a cabbage had become a commonplace one.

"All right," said Evan, patting Draco on the shoulder as the Slytherin pressed _Quidditch Through the Ages _back into Hermione's hands. "I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow, then. Come on guys."


	16. Chapter 16

I'm loving all your reviews

_I'm loving all your reviews! Keep them coming please! _

_In case you hadn't guessed, this is not J.K Rowling's story._

Late that night Evan sat bolt upright in bed, and resisted the temptation to use a few words his mother certainly wouldn't have approve of. All his life he had had this – very vivid dreams. The recent werewolf nightmare was certainly one of the more disturbing examples. He lay back down again gingerly and tried to remember what this one had been about.

After a minute's thought, he vaguely recalled a whole lot of cream-cakes that had come flying at him as if from nowhere. Charming.

With a little sigh, he rolled over and snuggled up in his blanket. But he lay awake for a long time, thinking.

The odd thing was, that other people had started having very vivid – and quite unpleasant – dreams. Ron Weasley had told them all in private that his twin brothers had been suffering in their sleep, and Draco had reported a similar phenomenon amongst their Slytherin enemies.

The odder thing was that the angrier Evan became by the various pranks and ambushes he was subjected to, the more widespread and vivid these occurrences seemed to be…

No. It was no good. He wasn't getting back to sleep anytime soon. He slid out of bed and descended to the common room.

The fire was burning low in the grate; the room was in semi-darkness. He curled on the mat in front of it and stared into the embers, wishing he had some Floo powder. Maybe his parents would still be awake.

He stifled a yawn. Why were you always more sleepy out of bed than in it?

_I'm going for a walk. And bugger curfew._

The fat lady had gone visiting, and the portrait was empty when Evan clambered out. Hoping fervently that she would be back by the time he was, he set off towards the Astronomy tower.

Immediately, he realised he wasn't alone. A small figure was curled up by the wall, wearing a pink dressing gown.

"Hi, Lucy."

She didn't seem surprised to see him. "'Lo, Evan."

He settled next to her. "Couldn't you sleep either?"

She nodded. "It's not a sleepy sort of night. Where's Ptolemy?"

"Asleep."

"So much for it not being a sleepy sort of night."

"Only for cats."

"What about you? Dreams again?"

"Just an insane one about flying creampuffs."

Lucy giggled and snuggled up to him. "Poor Evan," she said sympathetically. There was a little pause. "I'm glad you're my friend," she said suddenly.

"I'm glad you're mine."

"Mum wrote me this morning."

"Oh? Is that what that letter was?"

"Mmm."

"She send you any sweets?"

"Some liquorice wands. She knows they're my favourite."

"Well? What did she have to say for herself?"

"Dad's started looking for a job again."

"Oh? That's good, right?"

"Mmm."

He had the feeling she had been through this before. Instead of commenting farther, he put an arm around her shoulders.

"I know why Ptolemy was wet on Friday," she said unexpectedly.

"You do?"

"Somebody threw him in the lake. Neville had to pull him out…" she broke off with an enormous yawn.

"They what?" Evan demanded, incensed.

"Well, that's what I heard," she said. "I bet it was the Weasleys. I heard them say he was stalking them."

"Oooh…I'm gonna get them," he muttered sulkily. "I'm gonna get them good."

"That's nice," Lucy murmured sleepily.

He glanced over at her. "C'mon, Luce. I think we need to get you back to bed." He shoved her off of him and scrambled to his feet. "Come on," he urged, holding a hand out to help her up.

She took it and drowsily pulled herself up beside him. "Good thing tomorrow is a Saturday," she murmured. Side by side they made their way back to Gryffindor tower.


	17. Chapter 17

Still not Jo's

_Still not Jo's._

When Evan woke up in his own bed the next morning, and trotted downstairs to the common room, he found that he was not the only one who had enjoyed a less-than-peaceful night. The twins were huddled, white-faced, in front of the fire, apparently having woken up sometime after midnight from a rather nasty nightmare about being chased by an army of giant orange cats.

Alicia Spinnet was doing her best to comfort them, and by the time Lucy had come down to join Evan, the red-haired boys had recovered and gone down to breakfast, glaring daggers at Evan, who was struggling to suppress a laugh.

He and Lucy were nearly at the Great Hall when he stopped and stared. The cupboard door, next to him, was rattling. He moved towards it, then hesitated. Only, there was something familiar about that door.

"Well," said Lucy. "Open it." She made an impatient sound and moved past him.

And then he remembered.

His dream.

He grabbed Lucy and pulled her away from the doors as they sprang open, and two-dozen odd enchanted cream-cakes came pelting out, flashed past where they had been standing a second ago. Flashed past them, and splattered all over the frozen faces of the Weasley twins, peering out from behind a tapestry.

This time Evan did smile, if only in relief. _Interesting…very interesting…_

"How did you…how on earth did you know that was going to happen?" Lucy demanded.

He shrugged evasively. "Must be psychic…"

She snorted in disbelief and looked full ready to demand a proper explanation when they were interrupted.

"Snape! Hi there! Snape!"

Evan turned. Madam Hooch was walking towards them with a solid, gangly fifth-year Gryffindor boy. Evan thought – if he remembered rightly – the boy was called Oliver Wood.

The cream-and-pastry-faced twins quickly disappeared.

"Madam Hooch said you're a fine flyer," said the boy as they drew closer. He was frowning as he studied Evan, fists on hips.

"First class," the woman affirmed. "I'd try him out if I were you. That is, if he agrees?" She raised her eyebrows at Evan.

Something clicked in Evan's mind. "You're Gryffindor's Quidditch captain, aren't you?"

"That's right. Ever played before, Snape?"

"Once or twice. Trouble is getting enough people together for a decent game."

"Right. Well, see, the thing is we're short a beater now George has gone and got himself booted off. Madam Hooch has given you a thumbs up, and she doesn't do that very often. So, are you interested?"

Evan paused. Then he glanced over at Lucy. She squeezed his hand. "Don't worry about me, Evan. I'll entertain myself while you're out with the drill sergeant here."

"The what?" said Wood curiously.

"Never mind," Evan replied hastily. "Yes…I'd like to. But my broomstick…"

"We'd have to get you a good one. A Comet Two Sixty, I'd say, or a Nimbus Two-thousand…"

"I've already got one. A Nimbus. At home."

"Really?" Wood sounded quite impressed. "Owl your parents, then, and get them to send it. Madam Hooch…"

"All right. I'll talk to McGonagall and the Headmaster," the witch conceded. "I'm sure Minerva will jump at the chance. After all, there's so substitute, is there? And it's been a very long time since Gryffindor won the trophy."

"Six…years…" Wood ground out, teeth clenched.

Evan and Lucy exchanged glances. "Attent-tion!" she mouthed. "Right-march…for-ward!"

"Right," said Evan, fighting to keep a straight face. "All right, then. Let's see if we can fix that."

Wood beamed suddenly. "I knew I liked you."

"I'll leave you two to sort out training schedules, and I'll go hunt down Professor McGonagall."

They all watched as Madam Hooch walked away.

"No time like the present, Snape. I'll go get the gear, and I'll meet you out on the pitch – say in half-an-hour?"

"Um," said Evan, "All right."

He hurried off. Lucy turned to him. "You're not nervous?"

"Well, it's been a while…"

"You'll be fine. Come on, Hermione. Let's go get breakfast."

They waved at Evan and continued towards the Great Hall.

Evan turned around to retrace his steps, then stopped, "No. Go with the girls. Go on! Shoo!"

Ptolemy gave him a stern look.

"Shoo!"

With what looked remarkably like a sniff, the cat turned his back and his tail on Evan and scampered off after the girls.

"Oh, brother." Evan rolled his eyes and loped off in the opposite direction.

Wood had apparently wrestled the bat off George Weasley, because that's what he gave to Evan before unleashing the Bludger on him. Evan privately thought it was a bit tame after doing battle with _Quidditch Through the Ages _but decided against mentioning this.

By the time Wood reluctantly packed up the Quidditch chest again, the sun was high in the sky and Evan's stomach was growling. "The cup'll have our names on it this year," he said happily as they trudged towards to the broom-shed. "You're miles better than George, but don't tell him I said that. And you've got the most amazing backhand, which is more than I can say for any other beater I've watched. You'll play for England one of these days, Snape."

"Oh, will I?"

"Not a doubt," said Wood cheerfully. "But before that, you'll play for me! And Gryffindor, I mean. Here, I'll pack up, and you get yourself something to eat. Can't have my new secret weapon collapsing on me."

"No," said Evan. "We can't have that. I'll see you later, then." With a little wave in Wood's direction he set off back towards the school.


	18. Chapter 18

Whew

_Whew! Life's pretty full on around here, but hopefully I'll keep the updates coming. Hope you like them! _

_You know the drill: Deepest gratitude to Rowling for letting me play with her universe._

With his new training regime, as well as all the homework they were loaded with and – of course – the classes that loaded them with it, Evan seemed to be constantly on the go.

Lucy always came to watch him practice, watching Beatrice and Fred both with a critical eye, a book or homework assignment usually lying forgotten in her lap. Evan wondered if she was finally becoming interested in the game, and whether he could talk Wood into letting her try out.

Hermone was more often than not in the library, but she made the occasional appearance with Lucy, both bundled up in red jackets as the weather drew colder. Draco, too, was a frequent visitor. Once they had established that he was not a Slytherin spy. Wood only believed this after he happened upon Marcus Flint with Draco in a headlock.

Draco's war with the small group of thugs had been slowly and steadily gaining momentum as the term wore on, and came to a head mid-October. Encouraged by Evan, he had rallied some of the other students, all of whom were totally fed up with Flint and his gang. He refused to comment farther on what happened behind the closed Slytherin door, but it must have been quite spectacular. The queue from the Infirmary stretched right down the corridor, with Slytherins waiting patiently to have teeth, noses and feet shrunk back down to their proper size, tails removed, wings banished and bones re-grown. And of course, every student sported violently blue, pink, green or lavender hair.

Meanwhile, Evan had his own concerns. _His_ war with the Weasley twins showed no signs of reaching a conclusion. It was obvious they both deeply resented his supplanting George on the team, and Fred – when he had to at planning sessions – insisted on referring to Evan only as "the other Beater".

All through September odd things continued to happen. Dung bombs exploded. Fireworks went off unexpectedly. The Weasleys' ambushes continued to drive Evan crazy. How, he could often be heard to demand, did they always know where he was going to be and when he was going to be there? There never seemed to be an answer.

But the twins – and the Slytherins – were fighting a losing battle. Not only was Evan ably assisted and abetted by letters from his father, but he was almost universally liked.

Life tended towards the dull at Hogwarts. Unless you were on the house Quidditch team there was no sports, and the odd inter-house match was the only entertainment. So up until Evan's arrival, the twins – annoying as some of there pranks were – had enjoyed blanket popularity.

But Evan had the advantage of pranks that were both more creative (dung-bombs began to pall compared to flying, disembodied hands and vanishing uniforms) and highly specific in their effects. He and his little gang seemed to be very good at avoiding innocent bystanders.

He had another advantage too: tireless energy and a real knack for organising things. Before they quite realised what was happening, pureblood Slytherins who had never laid eyes on a football before were playing alongside Ravenclaws and Gryffindors against other Slytherins, Hufflepuffs and more Ravenclaws. Muggle-borns were zooming around the castle grounds like they'd been flying all their lives – much to Madam Hooch's satisfaction: it had always annoyed the witch that they dropped their brooms like hot pokers as soon as her classes were over – in scratch games of Quiddich, as well as other games, the rules of which seemed to change at Evan's slightest whim. He started water-balloon fights, swimming competitions in the lake, foot-races, wheelbarrow-races, three-legged races and, after a considerable period of begging for permission, games of spotlight using their wands in the grounds after dark. And absolutely nobody was bored.

The teachers and headmaster could only gaze in wonder at the boy as he systematically deconstructed inter-house rivalries that had lasted for centuries. There were a few hold-outs. Disapproving Slytherins muttering about "blood-treachery", Gryffindors holding forth about "no-good Slytherins" and of course, Ravenclaws who would rather study than have a good time. But overall, Hogwarts had never been such a happy place.

Evan Filch, the sour caretaker, seemed quite fond of Evan, Lucy and their new friends. Ptolemy had made friends with Mrs Norris, and Evan – to the incredulity of all – had issued an ongoing offer to magically help with muddy footprints on carpet, potions accidents and the often sticky consequences of the twins' pranks. This simple act of kindness had won him unreserved approval from the caretaker, who – for the first time in years – had some afternoons free to put his feet up and read the paper.

He was also quite ready to help Hagrid weed his vegetable patch, and talked Lucy into helping with the giant man's huge menagerie. "You're better with animals than I am," he told her.

There was no doubt at all. Evan Snape was truly king of Hogwarts.


	19. Chapter 19

And another chapter, apologies to Rowling for not being her

_And another chapter, apologies to Rowling for not being her._

November came, and with it the frigid air, the icy drizzle, the iron grey skies and the nagging, cold winds.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Evan would be playing his first match against Slytherin. Gryffindor was tied with Slytherin to win the house cup. If they won this game, they would move into first place. It would be the first time Griffindor had got the cup for years.

Oliver Wood had become understandably nervous quite early in the year, when he had heard on the rumour mill about Evan's run-in with the Slytherin captain. He hunted the younger boy down and begged him to deny it. When Evan shrugged and said he'd like to but couldn't, he let out a loud groan and banged his forehead with his hand, making Lucy giggle.

"Is there a problem?" Evan had asked, innocently.

"He'll mangle you if he gets near you, mate," Wood replied frankly.

"Oliver," said Evan patiently, "I'm a beater, not a seeker. I have a bat, and two lethal weapons to play with. My job is to mangle the other team, not the other way around. Remember?"

Wood looked doubtful. "It's just…you're so small," he said in exasperation. "You're the best damn flyer I've ever seen, but…we're taking an awful risk sending you out there."

"Didn't we have this conversation in September?" Evan asked wearily. "If you like, I'll resign, and you can have your Weasley back. Bearing in mind the game is tomorrow."

"No. No don't do that. You're right. But if it doesn't work out, I'll see if I can swap you with Beatrice."

Beatrice Prewett was a third year Gryffindor, and a surprisingly talented Seeker.

"Oliver," said Evan slowly and clearly, wondering if the Weasley twins had been letting too many bludgers nobble their captain recently. "Bea is terrified of the Bludgers. She told me yesterday that if I let one get within a hundred yards of her she'll wring my neck afterwards. And, if you don't mind, I've got enough enemies at this school."

Oliver had laughed, unable to help himself. It was true that Bea was scared of the violent balls. Most of the school was scared of them. Which is why the school Quiddich teams tended to have too many chasers and keepers and hardly any volunteers for the two most dangers positions. If Evan got clobbered, there was nobody to replace him. Except Fred.

It was also true that Evan had a fan-club. The whole school had been watching keenly the progression of the prank war between Evan and the twins. There was even a betting pool on who would do what to whom, and when. People had taken to giving Evan the thumbs up as he waked to his classes.

Those same people had lately been coming up to him and either telling him he'd be brilliant on Saturday – which seemed to annoy him – or that they'd be running around the pitch underneath him with feather mattresses – which annoyed him even more.

His parents' response to his news had been quite predictable and had arrived, along with his Nimbus, soon after he had written them.

_Dear Evan,_

_Your father and I are thrilled, but your dad isn't quite sure you're not pulling our legs. I know you're a great flyer (although heaven knows where you get it from; neither of us have ever shown any great aptitude!) but we can't quite get our heads around you being a __beater__ for Gryffindor! If you had made Seeker we might not have been so surprised, but a __beater__?  
Oh well Just be safe, love. Don't go doing anything crazy out there! Your Dad wants to know why you can't stick to Football, which is safer. It's okay though, I understand. And I think he does too, really. He's very proud._

_We're both very proud of you, Evan honey. Proud that you've found your feet so well at Hogwarts, that you're doing so well in class and that you're making new friends. Hermione sounds lovely, and I've met Draco a few times: his mother's an old school friend of ours. He seems a nice boy, but I'm glad he's got you three as friends. I have a feeling he needs you._

_Perhaps you'd like to invite him and Hermione and Lucy to our house over the Christmas holidays? _("oh yes!" cried Hermone eagerly)_ It wouldn't be difficult, and we could arrange something for boxing day. Ask them. _

_Anyway, we've sent your broom along, and a few goodies. There's some of my toffee, and some Jaffas from your Grandmother. Once again, be careful up there, and watch out for those Slytherins. Your father says for me to tell you to watch out for the Gryffindors as well._

_All our love, honey. We'll write more soon. Your dad will write next time. He's just taken on this year's batch of Mediwizards and Mediwitches, and he's been up to his eyeballs in work. One of them was so nervous her first day that she dropped all the vials she was holding on the floor, and wasted an entire day's worth of Wolfsbane potion brewing! Your dad's been much more patient with this lot than he has before, though. I think he has a soft spot for that girl he mentioned. You know, he's always wanted a daughter. I think he's getting broody. Oh well, maybe next time_…(at this point Evan had choked on his breakfast glass of milk and looked highly alarmed).

_She wanted to be an Auror originally, he said, but changed her mind when she was in St. Mungo's overnight. She seemed quite taken with the place. Ask your friend Draco if he knows a Nymphadora Tonks. I'm pretty sure she's his cousin._

_I think that's everything right now. Your dad sends his love, and I send mine. By the bushel, by the barrel, by the tonne._

_Mum._

"I hope she's kidding," he had said seriously, upon finishing his perusal. "I'm way too old to suddenly become a big brother."

"Aw…babies are so cute," cooed Lucy in what Evan considered in a typically masculine way to be a bit soppy.

He peered dubiously into the smaller of the two packages that had accompanied the letter. His mother's toffee had been known to crack teeth.

Inside he had discovered a cardboard box of the orange-candy-coated chocolate balls as promised, a tin of store-bought mackintosh toffees, and a note from his father. _Your teeth may rot but they won't break. Don't tell your Mother._

"Good ol' Dad," Evan had chuckled, shoving the treats into his backpack. He had dragged Lucy outside to help him practice his flying style, ignoring Draco and Hemione – both of whom had begun a heated debate on which of them had correctly listed the symptoms of Werewolfism for Defense against the Dark Arts.


	20. Chapter 20

And yet another chapter, you spoilt lot

_And yet another chapter, you spoilt lot! Come on and review or I might not post another chapter for ages! Gotta run now; thanks to Rowling (and Warner Bros.?)._

As Saturday morning drew ever closer, Evan – rather surprisingly, everybody thought – seemed to grow ever more cheerful. Lucy rather suspected that this was due to the recollection his parents' letter had brought that in Quidditch, at least, nobody was going to be comparing him to his Father.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be piled into the stands, some with binoculars, some with omnoculars and some with only their eyesight to aid them.

In the changing room, Evan and the others were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes. Slytherin would be playing in green.

Somebody tapped him smartly on his shoulder and he turned around. It was George Weasley.

They looked at each other for a minute. "Good luck, mate," said George finally.

"I'll need it," Evan murmured awkwardly. "Look…sorry about the…"

"S'all right. Um…sorry about the…"

"S'all right."

Just then, Wood cleared his throat for silence. "All right…um, Gryffindors," Somehow neither "men", or "ladies and gentlemen" seemed right. "This is it."

A whistle blew outside. Madam Hooch was refereeing. Evan glanced towards the door, "Up," he said to his broom, and swung astride. "Let's go!"

"Blimey," said George, "You're keen."

Seven flashes of crimson and seven flashes of emerald streaked out onto the pitch and swept a loop of the field.

"Right you lot," called Madam Hooch as they came to a halt, one team on either side of her. "I want a nice clean game, right?" She seemed to be looking very hard at Flint, who in turn was looking at Evan like all his dreams had come true.

She blew another blast on her silver whistle. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is immediately taken by Chaser Angeline Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too!"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

Lee Jordan was doing the Commentary, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and – no Slytherin have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes – Flint flying like an eagle up there – he's going to sc – no, stopped by a bludger sent his way by Beater Evan Snape, first year and new to the Gryffindor team, and a very neat player he is too – Flint's dropped the Quaffle and it's taken by Gryffindor at once – that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor of Gryffindor, she's off up the field there…"

Evan saw the Bludger heading towards Bell a moment before it connected with the back of her head, and shot in to intercept it. His bat connected with the speeding ball with a satisfying thud, and it belted off towards Slytherin Chaser Pucey, who was tailing Bell.

The game wore on. The sun reached its peak in the sky and inched past it, and still nobody had caught the snitch. Evan's arm began to ache and he was growing increasingly frustrated by the snitch, which seemed to have taken a fancy to him. It had flitted past his nose several times in just the last ten minutes. This was doubly frustrating, as it caused both Seekers to come belting towards him at the speed of light, and he had once been sorely tempted to knock them both off their brooms with a bludger.

On the upside, Fred was talking to him again, apparently quite resigned to having a junior partner.

And – the icing on the cake – Gryffindor was ahead by two-hundred points. No matter who caught the snitch, they would win the game, just so long as Slytherin didn't score too many more times…

There was a roar from the crowd. The Seekers were diving. Was it a Wronski feint? No. He could see a tiny golden flash just ahead of them…they were neck-in-neck.

There was a resounding _crack _to his right. Fred – out of range of the two plummeting Seekers – was sending a bludger in his direction.

What a vote of confidence. He swallowed, tightened his grip on his bat, and let fly…

_Whack!_

The Bludger shot like a bullet towards the flash of gold. If he had timed it right…

He had.

There was a gasp from the crowd.

The Bludger had cut off the Slytherin Seeker at the bottom of his dive, and he had lost control of his broom. Evan was conscious of a pang of guilt as the green-robed boy went skidding across the wet pitch face-first, finally raising himself, spitting out grass and gazing venomously as Beatrice pulled gracefully out of her dive, the snitch clutched tightly in her fist.

Gryffindor had won by three-hundred and twenty points!

Evan did a barrel-roll in pure joy, and the applause from the crowd grew even louder. With a small shock, he realised they were applauding _him._

But he searched the crowd in Gryffindor for the only face that mattered.

Lucy was dancing on her tip-toes, waving and laughing and clapping.


	21. Chapter 21

Hi guys

_Hi guys! I'm in the middle of moving, so it'll be a while before I can update again. No internet where I'm going (they may not even have discovered the computer!). Here's a little something to be going on with. Still no Jo._

Evan being Evan, he organised a celebratory picnic in front of the castle that evening. The whole school gathered on the lawn – Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff not wanting to miss out – and the House-elves rose admirably to the occasion. As the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, baskets of every sort of food appeared. Hard boiled eggs, soft bread rolls, cold ham, beef and chicken, cold sausages, cheeses of every description (including one that had holes all through it and smelled funny), plates and plates of biscuits…

They gorged themselves in the chilly air, under the lilac sky, in front of the huge fire that burned magically bright, and there was a lot of laughing and making silly toasts with goblets full of butterbeer or lemonade.

Evan tried to insist that Wood was the real hero, but there was no doubt in anybody's mind that Gryffindor would have lost if he hadn't been playing, causing him to turn bright pink and quietly slip away from the festivities. He found a quiet spot beside the black lake and stroked Ptolemy's big head.

Finally the party broke up, and the teachers began shepherding the students indoors again. Evan watched them disappear, ignoring Ptolemy's determined effort to nudge him in the same direction.

"It's nice out here…for November," he murmured, shoving the cat away.

He sat and watched Gryffindor tower until the last light twinkled out. He grinned to himself half-heartedly. His parents would kill him if they knew the number of after-dark walks he had taken.

The moon –full and glorious – was peering out cautiously into the indigo sky, and the thick forest had darkened to a dense, black wall.

Except for some twitching blades of grass, all was still.

At least, it was until Evan's bright green gaze was caught by what looked like a man – a cloaked man – running, almost lurching into the forest.

He stopped, stared at the blacker than black that had swallowed the hooded figure up. The man looked unwell…maybe he needed help.

Ptolemy began to growl.

Evan took a slow step towards the trees, then stopped again, looking uncertainly at his cat. _Oh, to hell with it. Somebody's in trouble._

The wizard was nowhere in sight when Evan slipped into the cover of thick blackness between the trees. "_Lumos!_"

He knew it was growing very late and very dark outside the forest. Exactly _how _dark he couldn't really say. The canopy shut the sky from view.

Slowly, he kept edging forward. And then, he heard a noise.

He wasn't alone.

He lifted his wand and spun, opened his mouth to cast…something.

Panicked eyes, pointing wand. Dark wood, he noticed. There was a flash of crimson light.

And after that, nothing.


	22. Chapter 22

Property of J

_Property of J.K. Rowling. Alas._

Lucy, fast asleep in her big four-poster sat bolt upright with a gasp and clutched her chest. She felt like she had just been ripped apart by hungry Hippogriffs. For a second her body was racked with an awful pain. Then she managed tiny, gasping scream as confused images danced across her blurred mind. A pair of eyes, scarlet light, a strange, swirling mist. Then everything went cold, and everything went black.

Hermione discovered her motionless body a few minutes later. She had finished her homework, and taken her shower and was ready for a peaceful night's sleep. This, however, was not to be.

She did the only sensible thing she could think of to do, and grabbed both of Lucy's shoulders and shook her.

The girl's pale lashes fluttered, and then twin sapphire orbs were staring up into Hermione's brown ones. Instantly Lucy seized her friend's arm. "Evan!" she uttered in dread tones.

"Pardon? I mean, what about Evan?"

Lucy scrambled to her feet and dived under her bed for clothes. Merlin, but her head ached. "Get dressed, 'Mione. He's in trouble…he might be…oh, Hermione! I just know something horrible's happened to him." Her voice broke and she buried her face in a grey sweater.

Hermione, although completely mystified, pulled on a fresh set of clothes, and the two girls crept out of their dormitory.

"Shit!" said Lucy.

Percy was still in the common room, reading a battered old book, probably his copy of "Prefects in Power".

"We can't get past him," she added, withdrawing.

"Well…why don't we tell him and…"

"What, tell him I've just had a vision of what was possibly the last thing my best friend ever saw? That I woke up feeling like I'd been kicked around by an overgrown mountain Troll and I think it's because he's just been murdered? Anybody would say I'm crazy. You think I'm crazy."

"No…" said Hermione, biting her lip.

"Shush…what's that?"

"What…" She stopped. There was a tapping coming from the window. And looking in at them, face pale against the sable night sky, was Draco Malfoy.

"Could this night possibly get any weirder?" Lucy demanded, dragging herself across the room to unlatch the window. "Draco, what on earth…"

"Shh. I'm on a broomstick."

"Why?"

"Ptolemy just came into my room and jumped onto my bed. I don't know how he got in. Lucy, I think Evan…"

"I know. Listen, Percy's on guard duty downstairs. Can this thing carry passengers?"

"Only if you're going down."

"Just so long as we're not going down at speed."

"We won't," said Draco, sounding affronted.

"Fine. Stay there."

She scurried backwards and collected her wand from where she had dropped it. Then she grabbed Hermione's arm and dragged her towards the window and the boy with the broom.

They could see Ptolemy's enormous orange head blazing against the dark night. He sat erect and motionless, staring at them with amber eyes. Waiting and, Lucy was sure, impatient. Something was definitely wrong with Evan.

Hermione, Draco noticed, had turned a rather interesting shade of white. He tried to keep the school's old Cleansweep Seven still as the two girls scrambled on, and true to his prediction, they began gracefully sinking.

"Next stop: Ground floor; scarves, shirts and lady's skirts, going do-own!" sang Lucy half-heartedly.

"What?" said Draco.

Hermione whimpered.

"Never mind," said Lucy.

The grass prickled under their feet as they landed, and Ptolemy quickly jumped down.

"Here, give it here." Lucy hastily grabbed the broom and shoved it behind a rose-bush. Then she paused. Where on earth were they going to go now?

She had no idea where Evan could be.

"Last I heard he was out on the Quidditch field," Hermione offered, obviously very relieved to once more be in contact with the ground.

"We'll walk down there," Draco agreed.

Nobody spoke as they left the shadow of the castle. Nobody spoke at all, in fact, until they passed into the shadow of the forest.

"You don't think…" Hermione murmured.

"He wouldn't…" said Lucy. "But maybe…" She stopped. Ptolemy was butting his head against her leg. She looked at him and he growled. Then he looked pointedly at the forest. Then he growled again.

She took a few steps towards the dense mass, and stopped. "My…wand," she said, looking at it.

"What about your wand?" Hermione asked warily, glancing at hers.

"It's…shaking. No. It's vibrating."

"Are you…"

"I'm not mad, Draco."

"Uh…no," he said uncertainly.

They watched her as she experimentally walked forward and backwards.

"It stops here. Starts here…" A thoughtful expression crossed her face. "Ollivander," she murmured.

"Besides the fact and he are both, well…

"Barking," Hermione supplied, with conviction.

Draco nodded. "What's he got to do with this?" he concluded.

"He said…come on." Lucy began running towards the forest.

Ptolemy made a growling noise in his chest and set off at a gallop at her heels, the other two jogging behind as best they could. "Lucy," puffed Hermione, as they plunged into the trees she and the cat had slowed to a walk. "Didn't you say Evan had been…hurt?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, what are we…"

"Shh."

Draco and Hermione exchanged looks, and Hermione swallowed. Draco took her hand and squeezed it encouragingly. She smiled at him fleetingly and squeezed back.

Thus comforted, the pair trailed after their friend, her hair like a pale lantern against the blackness of the trees. He knew Lucy was certain something terrible had happened to Evan, but why was she so sure? He was glad he didn't have to hurry after the blonde girl alone. Hermione's warm presence was comforting.

Ptolemy's ears were flat against his head, which was stretched forward on a long, muscular neck. He certainly thought something was up.

Suddenly Lucy ground to a halt.

Draco, close behind, walked right into her, then stumbled backwards into Hermione. "Ouch," he hissed, feeling a bit battered.

Lucy didn't reply, she was staring straight ahead, frozen.

The other two exchanged glances, then followed her gaze with their own.

_Oh. My. God._


	23. Chapter 23

All J

_All J.K's. I just come out at night to frolic in her universe._

When Evan opened his eyes, at first he thought he hadn't. The darkness pressing in around him was absolute. He held a hand up, right in front of his nose, but he couldn't make out so much as an outline. It was somehow thick and suffocating as well, although how light – or lack there of – could be suffocating he wasn't entirely sure. Possible or not, however, it was difficult to breathe, and his chest felt impossibly heavy. He dropped his hand back to his side, wondering briefly if he was upright or lying down, and waited for something to happen.

It felt like hours. It felt like seconds. It felt like an eternity, and it felt like no time at all. Then the darkness and the heaviness both began to roll away from him and he was floating – just floating – in thick silvery mist.

Without warning, his feet hit solid ground. There was nothing to do except to walk, and hope, so he walked and he hoped, hands stretched in front of him, pale shadows in the fog.

_Am I…dead? _He wondered hesitantly. _Ouch! _He walked right into something hard and straight and very, very, solid. _I don't feel dead._

It was, of all things, a lantern-post. He stared up at it blankly, and as he did it began to glow. The mist drained away like water down a bath plug, and slowly Evan rotated where he stood. He swallowed. Somehow, he didn't think he was at Hogwarts anymore. _But how? And why? And more importantly, where?_

He was standing beside a green lamp-post and what appeared to be a wooden park-bench at the centre of a circle of light. Pressing all around was perfect blackness. The ground crunched and gave way beneath his feet, and reaching down he crumbled icy snow between his fingers.

Although there was no fence, a gate made of what looked like gold swung lazily in a white marble archway behind him, through which he guessed he had stumbled. As he watched, its latch finally caught and it shut soundlessly. Opposite there was another golden gate in another white marble arch. And another and another, opposite each other, right-angled to the other two. All the latches were fastened.

He looked again at the lantern and the bench, and then, because there didn't seem to be much choice, he sighed and gingerly sat down. _Now what?_

He didn't have long to wait.

The first gate – his gate – swung open with a little click, making Evan jump and stare. Another figure was shifting in the darkness. A big figure. A huge figure. A simply enormous figure. He had never seen any figure in the same category of bigness, and it was emerging into the light.

And into the light it came. All twenty feet of black, scaly, muscular dragon. _Oh. My. God._

It draped itself in a semicircle around the bench and around the lantern and considered him thoughtfully through yellow eyes.

"Hello, human."

Evan jumped. "You…you talk?"

"This is not talking, human. We are sharing our thoughts, and this, human, is a place for thoughts. A place for dreams."

"I'm dreaming? This is a dream? But…"

"Yes, human, you are dreaming. But this is _not_ a dream."

"What?"

"This is not a dream. Nor is it real. It simply is."

"But _where_ is it?"

"This is the _Crossroads_."

"Oh…" Evan murmured faintly. _I can't believe I'm talking to a dragon…_

_Would it be easier for you if I looked a little more approachable?_

Evan jumped again, opened his eyes – he seemed to have closed them – and gaped. A woman was sitting beside him on the bench. A woman with rich, coffee-coloured skin and black hair in braids piled on top of her head. She smiled at Evan, revealing a row of very white, straight teeth.

"You're not…you are…what are you? Are you an Animagus?"

The woman laughed. "No. I am as you saw me before, but here we can be anything we like. As I said, this is a place of dreams. This is the Crossroads between worlds, human." She pointed up, and Evan looked. Right at the top of the lantern – he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before – were four signposts spread like a cross, each pointing to a gate. Only, they were blank.

"Most never make it this far through their dreams," the woman – or dragon – went on. "Although there are always one or two who stumble in by accident. The mind, especially the human mind, is never less in control then when in the _Dreaming_."

"The _Dreaming_," Evan repeated faintly.

"The land of dreams, Evan. The land where the greatest and most powerful of your kind is helpless, and where the mightiest leader is at the mercy of those who know its labyrinths. It is not an easy maze to walk, for your steps will carry you through the dreams, the thoughts and the memories of every sleeper, and one wrong step may mean you never escape, for never can you waken from another's dream."

Evan swallowed and glanced up at the signs. This time, the one that pointed directly forward bore the inscription _The Dreaming._

His confidence began to grow. "I'm in charge of this place, aren't I. It does what I…what I want? What I…expect?"

The woman inclined her head graciously. "We dragons have far, far more knowledge of the Dreaming than your kind, but even we hesitate to tread its paths. I would not have been able to reach this place had not your summons guided me."

"I summoned you? But I don't even know you!"

"Oh, but you do know me, Evan. You and I know each other very well indeed. After all, _the wand chooses the wizard, no?_"

"You…you're my wand! I mean…" he broke off, turning pink, but to his relief the woman laughed. "Yes. You and your pretty little friend have a part of my life-force in your wands, and consequently – from the first moment you picked it up – have part of my life-force in you. As I said, we are very well acquainted. Had your estimable father or your lovely mother, or perhaps little Lucy, the only others to share with you such a strong tie, been sleeping, you would have called to them, and they would have come."

Evan digested this. The skin on the back of his neck was prickling. "I'm just sleeping though…right?" he asked in a very small voice. "I'm not…"

"I cannot answer that question." Sad. "I do not know whether or not your mortal body is dead. I only know that had your sleep been a normal, natural one your steps would not have led you here, and you would not have called for help."

There was a silence that like so many other moments in this strange place, may have lasted a second or a day. "Can I go back?"

"From here, you can venture into the _Dreaming_," she said carelessly. "And that is no light matter. Every being that thinks, and sleeps and dreams is bound in that web, and none can shield their mind from a Dreamer who seeks entry.

"A _what_?"

"Not every deep sleeper finds their way here, you know. You, little one, you are special. You are a part of this place. Part of the Crossroads. You are a Dreamer. It is a gift you may one day come to be grateful for. Few share it."

"So if I wasn't, I would just stay in the mist?"

"The mist? Yes, the silver haze of the Boundary. None but a Dreamer could have found this place. From this place, your steps may also take you into Death, from where there certainly is no return. But from this place, human, yes – go back you can indeed."

She pointed up and Evan looked. The signpost that pointed to the gate he had come through was marked "_The Way Back_", and somewhat disturbingly, the one pointing across his head read "_Death_".

"Unless of course your mortal body is not capable of waking," the woman continued gravely. "And herein lies the trouble, for your body cannot wake unless you return to it, and you cannot return to it unless it wakes. You must wait until the time is right, and sadly if you are dead you will wait forever. You are a Dreamer, whether your body is live or dead, and others would not have the luxury to choose to wait until they are ready to make the crossing. That choice is made for them the moment the heart stops beating."

"But how…"

"You'll know, human. You'll know. Just as I know now." She was staring over her shoulder with rapt attention. "It is time. I must away." She stood.

"Hang on…what about that other way?" The signpost opposite _Death _remained blank.

"That is yet one more question I cannot answer. Someday, Dreamer. Someday, perhaps you can tell me!"

She began walking delicately towards the gate she had come through. It swung silently open at her approach. She hesitated a moment, and was gone.

As the gate slammed shut again, Evan had never, never felt more lonely. It seemed like another eternity had passed, although, of course, it may have only been a few minutes.

He studied the gate closely, but it stayed firmly closed. So his body wasn't waking up, then.

Depressed, he waited some more.

And then curiosity got the better of him.

_I wonder…_

He got up again, and this time walked straight ahead. The gate to the _Dreaming _swung instantly open, but he hesitated. After all, he didn't know what was on the other side.

But then he shrugged. What did he have to lose?

He took a deep breath. And he stepped through.


	24. Chapter 24

Sorry about the delay, dear friends, but you see I have found the internet and a few moments to write

_Sorry about the delay, dear friends, but you see I have found the internet and a few moments to write! Thanks once again to the lovely Ms. Rowling for letting me play with her universe.__ And to any other authors I may have inadvertently borrowed from._

Instantly, he knew this was not the same place he had come through to get to the Crossroads. Instead of blackness, there was dazzling colour. Instead of hazy mist there was blinding clarity.

He blinked several times. Bands of coloured light streamed from somewhere far below him to somewhere far, far above. Every imaginable colour in the spectrum – sea green, moss green, emerald, lime. Yellow and amber and orange and crimson…he trailed his fingers in a particularly vibrant blue, and felt a strange kind of pull behind his navel. He studied it closer, and realised that shadowy forms were flitting through it, racing to that point far, far above. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and plunged into the band.

His head exploded in electric blue, and he felt like he was being sucked up his Grandma Violet's vacuum cleaner. It seemed he was spinning very fast, and either falling or soaring up…the roar in his head was deafening…he managed to keep his eyes open…saw a blurred stream of what he guessed were people's dreams…his stomach (if he even still had a stomach) was churning…he wished it would stop…

It was a lot like travelling with the Floo network, which he hadn't done for a while, and he couldn't help remembering James and Mary Potter – dusty and sooty – hurrying into Gringotts…

And then there was a sickening lurch and he pitched headlong into one of those fleeting snatches.

Dark. It was very dark. And with a lurch of the stomach he realised he was in a graveyard. Directly in front of him there was a panicked-looking youth, crouching behind a pale grey tombstone.

He edged forward, but some gut instinct told him to stay out of sight. The boy had very scruffy black hair…and then he looked up.

Evan stifled a gasp. It was James Potter. A younger James Potter.

There was the muffled sound of footsteps – somebody running. A dark shape melted out of the night, there was a flash of green light, the shape hit the ground. For a sickening moment Evan thought he was dead, but then realised the killing curse had shot over his head, missing by inches.

James peered out from behind his tombstone. He was clutching his wand very tightly.

The man on the ground scrambled to his feet. He too, had his wand out, and he spun to face the direction of the curse. He was wearing a dark blue sweater and a plain black cloak, and as he turned, Evan saw his face. He stifled a gasp.

His father.

And suddenly, he knew exactly what this dream, this nightmare of James' was about. He knew who was about to follow the curse out of the darkness.

Quickly, how did he get…_oof!_

He had been sucked back into the rainbow. Well, that was interesting. Think about a person to get into their dreams. Think himself out to get out.

He entertained himself for a while diving down the coloured beams and dropping into the minds of anybody and everybody he could think of. Neville was dreaming blissfully of birthday cake…that's right. Neville's birthday _was_ coming up soon, wasn't it?

Nothing happened when he thought about Draco. Or Hermione. So they weren't dreaming then.

Fred and George Weasley were dreaming about Quidditch, and about pranks. Now there was a surprise.

It was then he made another startling discovery. He was wondering idly if there was any way he could find out something useful – like how on earth they always managed to know where he was going – when he felt a familiar tugging behind his navel, and let himself be sucked into startling blackness. Then, in front of him, there was another archway, another gate. He pitched through and found himself in the Gryffindor Common room.

"I solemnly swear that this map will be used only for mischief and mayhem," said Fred – or George – as he touched his wand lightly to a sheet of parchment. To Evan's amazement thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that the wand had touched. They joined each other, they criss-crossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_

_Are proud to present_

_THE MARAUDER'S MAP_

It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing was the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labelled with a name in miniscule writing. Astounded, Evan bent over one of the memory-twin's shoulders to look at it. A labelled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study, and Mrs. Norris was prowling the second floor.

_So that's how they do it…now, how am I going to get my hands on that map…_

The image faded, and another memory took its place. George – or Fred – was pushing up one end of his mattress, sliding the folded map inside. _Ah._

That was all Evan wanted to see, so sure enough, he was obligingly pitched back into the rainbow coloured _Dreaming_.

The full impact of what had just happened suddenly hit him. He had just _read their memories! _ This was better than Legellimancy! Easier, too.

He wondered what Lucy was dreaming, but when he thought of her, something even more peculiar happened.

He was back in the Forbidden forest suddenly, and he was running. The crackling sound of twigs snapping under his feet sounded startlingly loud in his ears, and he could feel his heart pounding. Except it wasn't his heart. Wasn't his chest. He got a glimpse of a dark blue sleeve, and realised he was gazing out at the dark world through Lucy's eyes.

_No! _He wanted to scream at her, and the other two he knew were behind them. He didn't know what had happened to him, whether he was dead or living, whether he was still lying there in the bush or whether he had been moved, but if whoever had done it was still hanging around…every fibre in his body protested at that happening to his Lucy. And he somehow just knew that every rapid step she took was bringing her closer and closer to danger…

He had to do something.

But he couldn't reach his father, or his mother. He couldn't even reach mad-old, brilliant-old Dumbledore.

There was only one person he could think of who might help. Who had to help.


	25. Chapter 25

I wish I was J

_I wish I was J.K Rowling, but I'm not. This is her creation not mine. And if this bloody __disclaimer repeats itself again, please forgive me. Computers aren't my strong point._

James Potter's sleep was far from peaceful these days. It seemed like all the dreams from his younger days had crumbled away to nothing, and when he dreamed it was a very dark place. He knew he should have stuck to the Auror training programme. It seemed an eternity ago now. There he was – just fresh out of Hogwarts – one arm wrapped around the beautiful Mary McDonald, both of them ready to take on the world. If only they hadn't rushed into it, if they had waited. If they had both…grown up a little. Snape had told him on his wedding day – Lily had dragged him along – they were making a mistake. Said the only thing they had in common was a mutual adoration of James Potter.

James had told him to go jump in the lake. And even now, he knew Snape hadn't been completely right. James loved Mary so much it hurt. It hurt that he hadn't been able to give her the kind of life he wanted to. The kind of life Sirius was living with his South-American wife somewhere in Darkest Peru. That news had come as a bit of a shock, but his once-handsome, battle-scarred best friend and his pretty South-American bride were nauseatingly happy, and ran a busy pub together in Lima.

But he, James, he had started training to be an Auror, full of grand plans to be the best dark-wizard catcher the world had ever seen. But compared to his imaginings, of battle and glory, the reality was…rather boring. And James hated to be bored. He killed his first Death-eater a month or two out of school, and looking back, he realised that was where he had started to go wrong. After all, why would a blooded warrior, proven in combat, need to worry about all those stupid rules and endless lectures? Surely there were more important things to worry about. And when Voldemort had fallen, he would be amongst the heroes, rewarded and hailed beyond his wildest dreams.

But things had not exactly gone according to plan.

The shadow cast by Voldemort had grown darker than ever before. James had completely abandoned his Auror training by then, using money from his family's vault to provide for himself, Mary and little Lucy Margaret, then aged four. The war was hot, and people were dying. The order couldn't be at all places at all times, and so people died who needn't have.

Even James had to admit Snape had gone over and above the call of duty. Remus had once remarked he thought the man was superhuman, training at the hospital all day and battling Death Eaters all night.

Lily told Mary, too, Snape spent hours reading ancient books with rather disturbing titles. Ancient magic. Black magic. Blacker than black magic.

And then, one day, he disappeared. For almost a whole year, he disappeared, leaving behind a mystified supervisor, several frantic friends, a baffled ex-headmaster, a worried but mutinously silent wife and a cherubic son who – like Lucy – was too young to understand the darkness that gripped the country.

When he finally returned there had been something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Something bright, and almost…fanatical.

And then…and then…

He couldn't think about that battle, only lived it every night in his dreams. He couldn't believe he had seen it. Couldn't believe that he had been able to do anything more than cower behind a headstone in the graveyard at Malfoy Manor while his old rival and schoolfellow battled the Dark Lord himself.

And when Voldemort cast that last death curse, he thought it was all over, but Snape cast something of his own, and the flash of pure white met the evil green directly in between the two men and held. For the longest second ever it held. For a second it seemed either could win, but then their eyes met, and it was almost as though Voldemort had seen something in Snape's gaze that he just couldn't defy.

As though in a dream, James had watched as the silver charm forced Voldemort's own curse back upon him.

And the Darkest Lord was no more, never again.

It was the same old dream, the same old nightmare, only this time there was somebody there who wasn't usually there. Somebody familiar, but not from that awful night. And he said something James didn't usually hear in that dream.

He sat bolt upright, suddenly wide awake, sweating all over. "Mary!"

She was curled up in an armchair in front of the sofa. The radio was switched on, and a woman was singing something slow and sultry. There was a half-empty cup of tea next to her free hand. The other held a small book.

She looked up in surprise at her husband's shout. He hadn't been drinking lately, trusting instead to some dreamless-sleep potion Severus had given him to banish the nightmares. She knew he was haunted by ghosts from the battlefields. She understood that…but there were limits to her patience. The bottle had run out a couple of nights ago, and as far as she knew the dreams hadn't returned. But then, James didn't tell her everything.

He was on his feet now, looking around in wild panic. "Lucy!" he cried. "Mary…something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong!"


	26. Chapter 26

Running out of ways to tell the world that I am not J

_Running out of ways to tell the world that I am not J.K Rowling and I have an uncomfortable feeling she'd flip if she read this story! Have fun._

A long time later, when it was all over, Draco realised he could remember very little of the next few hours. It was all very blurry in his mind, like he didn't really want to think about it.

What he did remember was standing and staring at his friend's motionless body, lying sprawled on the forest floor. But the truly incredible, unbelievable thing that made all their mouths drop open was the dome of bluish-silvery light shimmering like water all around him.

Hermione took a few steps forward and gingerly poked the light with her wand. "Ouch!" she yelped, as it shot violently out of her hand. Her face screwed up in pain, she cradled her arm in her other hand, sinking to her knees as though her legs had turned to jelly.

"It shocked you?" Draco asked, taking a step towards her before stopping abruptly. "What was that?"

There was something else crashing through the undergrowth. And it was heading right towards them.

Bursting out from between two gnarled, twisted tree trunks – all long, yellow teeth, shaggy grey fur, slobbering red tongue, glowing yellow eyes – lunging at them, snarling, foaming.

A werewolf.

A bloody…great…werewolf.

_Help._

It cleared the dome in a single leap, but before it could reach them, a furry orange cannon-ball came belting straight into him. Hissing and growling, claws out, Ptolemy left angry red scars across the bigger animal's face.

The werewolf howled in pain and violently tossed his head. Ptolemy went flying, crashed into a tree and lay still.

Again the wolf crouched, aimed directly at Lucy, and the girl froze. It leaped, but then something else came crashing out of the undergrowth; something bigger than even the werewolf. Course and silvery hair, bony antlers, crashing into the wolf, sending it flying over its head.

It was an enormous stag.

The wolf crashed into the forest floor and lay still and gasping, obviously winded. And then, as they all stared, the stag morphed into the shape of a man, holding a wand outstretched.

James Potter.

Ropes shot from his wand towards the animal, but it suddenly scrambled to its feet and out of range. The ropes wrapped instead around a tree. James swore.

Lucy's eyes darted in disbelief from her father to her friends – Draco had shoved Hermione up a low-branched tree and was busy scrambling up behind her – back to the werewolf that was making straight for her again. She gave a little yelp and stumbled backwards right into Evan's shield, fell into it, fell through it like it wasn't there.

The werewolf crashed into it after her, howled in pain and dropped back, just as a crimson stunner hit its flank.

Shaken but not unconscious it turned aggressively towards James.

And right then, a third shape pushed through the trees. "Stun on two Potter!" a voice cried.

Twin bolts of light hit the wolf at the same time, and finally subdued, it fell unconscious. James flicked his wand again, and this time the ropes hobbled the beast and held.

It was Dr. Snape who joined him then, clutching his own wand tightly. "What the hell happened…is that Remus?"

"You tell me. Weren't you supposed to be making him something to keep him human over the full-moon?"

"I was and I did," Severus retorted. He glanced over to where Evan lay, then back at the stunned animal. "I've got some left over from the batch I made him a couple of days ago. It should still be good. Stay here with the kids. I have a feeling we're not going to get any answers until we've got Remus back."

He disappeared with a crack, and they waited in absolute silence until his return barely a minute later.

"Hold his head."

James complied, but just then, the wolf woke up and snapped his head to one side, sending the vial flying.

"Here, let me," James offered. And by wrapping his arm around the animal's skull and levering its jaws apart with a stick, he managed to tip the evil green fluid down its gullet.

It worked immediately. The wolf choked and writhed and its head shortened, its body shortened, its dreadful paws lengthened, forming into a man's fingers…the ugly hair disappeared…the werewolf turned back into Professor Lupin.

"Oh thank God!" Lupin gasped. "What a nightmare."

"Are you all right, mate?" James asked kindly.

"I've been better," the teacher groaned.

"What happened to Evan?" Severus cut in impatiently, gesturing to the glowing half-globe.

Lupin glanced over and jumped. "I…I…don't know…I think he followed me in to the forest. When I realised somebody had switched the Wolfsbane potion you sent me with something else, I got myself out here as soon as I could. But, yes, I remember. I saw him just before I transformed and I stunned him so I wouldn't attack him. But as for that shield…none of my doing."

"It hurt me when I touched it," Hermione offered from her tree. "But Lucy just went right through it."

Severus and James exchanged glanced. "Wake him up," he told Lucy.

"I…I don't know the counter-curse."

Severus edged closer. Gingerly he touched his fingers to the globe, then to everybody's surprise, he stepped through. "_Ennervate."_

And Evan opened his eyes.


	27. Chapter 27

Hallelujah

_Hallelujah! Not Jo, but an author with a finished story!_

He had been watching. He had seen the werewolf through Lucy's eyes. He had seen – creepily enough – his motionless body, surrounded by a glowing shield of light. He had seen both James and his father come, his father step into the circle and raise his wand.

He knew what was coming. A tug behind his navel and he was pitching back into the _Crossroads. _This time, however, the gate to the _Waking_ stood wide open.

Sighing in relief, he stepped through.

It was past midnight when the foursome found their own beds again.

James had smuggled them back into the castle through a secret passageway, after Evan's father had mended Lupin and patched up a battered-looking Ptolemy.

Clutching his now-purring pet to his chest, Evan remained mutinously silent on the subject of his mysterious shield. James led the way, white-faced, with one arm firmly clamped around Lucy's shoulders, casting occasional puzzled looks over his shoulder at Evan. Lucy was clinging very tightly to her father's shirt, which was sweet, Evan thought. Draco and Hermione were just behind him and his own father was bringing up the rear, thoughtfully providing light.

It was his father who quietly settled Evan in his four-poster. Ron Weasley appeared to be snoring quietly, but he half woke and snorted as the pair walked past.

James had walked Lucy to the foot of the stairs to her dormitory and – for the first time in ages – hugged and kissed her goodnight before leaving her and Hermione in each other's capable hands.

Lupin – head of Slytherin House – had been left in charge of getting Draco back into bed undiscovered before creeping back to his own chambers.

Severus ruffled his son's hair and quietly left the room, collecting James on the way past. They made their way to Hogsmede through the passageways without speaking much. They both had a lot to think about.

James couldn't quite get over the fact that he had almost lost his daughter; that his little girl had almost been killed by one of his best friends. And who had swapped the potion, if it _had_ been swapped? Why? Whatever, whoever, he made a promise right then to clean up his act. If ever there was a reason to be a good father, this was it.

Severus had never seen anything like the shield his son had raised when Lupin had stupefied him. Somehow, of the little group, only he and Lucy had been able to walk through. To the others it had been a solid barrier. And when Evan woke up, the light went out quick as a blinking, before he had opened his eyes.

He knew that nobody could answer those questions except his son, and Evan did have answers. Even without using Legillimancy, he could see it in his eyes. But Evan wasn't talking and until he was ready…well.

And he was absolutely sure he had sent Remus the right potion. Somebody had swapped it. Somebody had wanted there to be a werewolf within the walls of Hogwarts that night. Was it to make him – and St. Mungo's - look bad? Or something even more sinister? He could only wonder, and thank Merlin that Remus had fled to the forest in time and seen Evan before his transformation was complete.

Things might have been very different otherwise.

And what of James? The man had been much more useful than he had for a long time. It was almost like having the golden boy of Gryffindor back again, in the days when the Order fought.

Maybe, if Potter was truly ready to pull his head out of his arse, he could help him find a more settled path to follow.

He only knew he had never come so close to liking the scruffy-haired man who walked beside him, who had somehow known that something was wrong, who hadn't panicked, who had Flooed him and Lily to let them know.

In bed, Evan pulled his blankets tight, finally beginning to warm up. He didn't fall asleep though.

He found the idea a bit scary, now he knew what he could do.

End…

Want more? Please check out my one-shot follow-up _Voices in the Dark_


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